Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward
by counselor
Summary: Bella and Mom live together. No one has lived next door since the murder that happened there in 1997. One day Bella looks out her window and a compellingly handsome man is moving in. Bella doesn't date. But Mom is a serial dater on Match. When Mom gets a load of Edward he becomes the focus of all her attention. It's complicated. Bella is 27, Edward 37 and Mom is 45.
1. Chapter 1

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward

Beige is the color of safety.

It's the color that sells a home. If you put away your knick-knacks, any personal symbols that remind others that you've actually been living in the place shedding your dead skin cells all over everything, the house is more likely to sell.

I shouldn't have painted the ceilings red. Except for the one I painted yellow. Bright, bright yellow. And the failed attempt to paint Renee's bedroom ceiling to look like a cathedral, that was really not successful…those cherubims…from hell. I meant well.

But I blamed her and all the refrigerator art she hung over the years, sheathes of painted and crayoned works of art, three thick, defying the weaker refrigerator magnets, papers so frequently dislodged when she'd be talking while cooking and she'd slam the refrigerator door cause she got worked up when she talked about her work, well she encouraged me to keep…creating, is what I'm trying to say.

Being a teacher's aid in the middle school classroom where the degenerates were sent, that's only what she called them at home, at work they were called special students needing special assistance, but being that, she was often frustrated and loud while she went on…and on about the preposterousness of the academic system she was caught up in.

Bunch of little bastards is what I called them because she is my mom. But my point, she got worked up when she talked about them and slammed the doors and dislodged artwork. They, the students weren't the heavies, well a few were, but the administration, now they were worthy of the firing squad. Or at least a good tee-peeing like we did last Halloween. Mother and I and her horny friend Alice, fellow aid at the halls of debauchery and shame.

They were tipsy and I was their designated driver. We tee-peed the principal's house. It was obscene, let me tell you, those two crazy old bats throwing the rolls all over the place, and not getting caught. I was sweating bullets, the sad adult in the mess, while they did this. And I ended up helping. Peer pressure from my own mother. But it was funny. Well I was doubled over laughing at one point when the principal came to the door with a paint-ball gun. We got the hell out of there and the two splatters of yellow were on the trunk until we had a real good freezing rain.

And yes, I'm twenty-seven and still putting artwork on the fridge..because I live with mom and until that movie came out a few years ago, Failure to Launch, I didn't know I had failed…to launch. I remember Mom brought that home and I heated up the pizza and brought it in to the table and there we were two munching bunnies and we figured it out soon enough as Matthew McConaughey's character got revealed…he'd stayed too long…with Mom and Dad. He was hiding. I hadn't even finished my pizza that night, and that never happens. It was embarrassing to realize I was such a cliché they'd made a movie about me. But Mom was quiet too.

So I went right out the next day and found my own apartment.

Got ya.

I should say up front, it's summer. Late summer. Nothing much happens around here since the murder next door seventeen years back set the bar so high. After Freida was killed, dear Freida who made me popsicles since I was three, maybe two, or one perhaps, after that, her murder, no one wanted to buy her house and so the earth took over and weeds grew through the bottoms of the kitchen cabinets.

Not really.

Things don't sell quickly in this town, that's for sure. But with the murder, no one wanted Freida's haunted house even though it was repainted beige and all personal nick-knacks were long gone. Such as blood spray on the walls, Dexteresque, very now. No one wanted it really.

Mom said it was all about the missing granite counter tops, the missing stainless appliances, the missing cabinetry and hard wood floors and livable floor plan.

Too much HGTV for my mother and me. We're practically real estate agents. And decorators. And from the Food Network, yeah we're kind of chefs, too.

Yeah on that one. I mean yeah for real.

I work at home evaluating ingredients on government labels on packaging for the food industry. I have a boss, and I work for a company, I just don't ever go there. Well hardly. The city is an hour away and people…not my thing.

So imagine my shock, or dismay I should say, my gasping amazement when he moved in. I saw him over the fence. I went out there because the squirrels kept stealing my sweet corn and I only planted four short rows. So I went out there to whack a stick at the squirrels and I saw that rental truck in front of the place and no sooner did I think about that and here he came from around the back of it holding a big box full of…beakers and bunson burners maybe.

Right off I was interested. I mean, who buys a house where…who does that?

And why I started to think about myself, right then…like my bare feet with the chipped polish on my toenails, and my hairy legs, my cut-offs, one leg whacked off a couple inches shorter than the other—not my leg-legs, but the legs on my cut-offs, why I was thinking about it…who knows. And the funny stains on my shirt, on the boobs, the food-catching ledge God stuck on the front of my body…ha-ha. Hair? The hair on my head I mean…brushed…when?

I don't wear make-up, but maybe…mascara? I always forget I'm wearing it and rub my eyes. Always. So…I don't even try.

I don't have any zits, but a quick probe connects with sand in my eyes.

I am disgusting. So now I am tip-toeing through the scraggly grass that's thinning like an old man's hair cause we haven't seen rain in a month and it's been hot enough to rend hope from the soul.

But I'm oohing and owing my way to the backdoor cause, no shoes, and I am nearly there when he calls out, in a very handsome voice, a voice so nice I would know it belonged to a very handsome man if it's all I had to go on. And he is handsome. I knew that at the three second glance when he'd first manifested from the back of the rental truck.

The closer he gets the more right I am. And I have to make myself not bolt. I am so painfully shy it's like keeping my eyes open when someone's wanting to poke me right in the pupils. I need to hide.

But here I am, caught during squirrel duty. I'm still holding a stick even. Well I need to stay far enough away that he can't make out my details. I hate to disappoint him right off. I would have liked a minute to digest all this, but no such luck. However….

"Hello," he says.

I just make a sound, my fretting sound I can never quite trap in my neck before I make it.

"Hello?" he says again, still approaching, though more hesitant what with all the…growth along the fence, some of it his, some of it ours, a shared landscape disaster. Yes, Mom and I are also occasional, uncommitted landscapers. T. V. again.

But I can't think of it now with this…human being peering at me through the wild cherry tree and the milk weed and unfortunate bamboo plant experiment from back in 2001?

It's absolutely blowing up my mind to see a human coming from the direction of Freida's. It's been so long. He has no idea. And then, this human. Even through the beard and the explosion of hair growing from his head, I can see he is possibly even more striking than I first imagined. In a good way? I don't know! What am I? I'm angry.

I'm really pissed off at him.

"What are you?" I say.

He smiles, and he's got his lips pursed to repeat the 'what.' I don't give him time.

"I have to go in." That's me.

Is that the best I can do? Yes it is. I go in the house and close the screendoor and the heavy wooden door with the curtain and the shade because Renee is an over-doer, and I pull the shade too and lean on the door, then think, no, I can't put my back to this, so I run through the kitchen and the living room and up the stairs to the second floor and hurry to my room and my window, and I lean next to it and huff and puff because it's been ages since I've jogged, then I peer out my window, after I move all the crap obscuring my view and he's not around. Thank God.

What did I say to him exactly? I said something like…what are you? I said that. It didn't…sound intelligent. He couldn't answer. That is exactly what I did. People made a bid, and I slammed the door shut on any attempt anyone made to take a step toward me. Well…tough toenails. I'm not apologizing. She was killed there…and he shouldn't…how dare he. I had only gone out to see to the squirrels. And speaking of, one is running across my yard with a whole ear of corn. The whole ear in his little mouth and he's trying to run and hold onto the ear and I laugh and say, no at the same time. And now…now I don't' even have the freedom to do anything about it because this damn new…person has invaded my…life and it's not like a continent…my life…it's relatively small and he's moved into it…uninvited…yes.


	2. Chapter 2

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 2

Later that day I exit the bathroom in my birthday suit, a big cloud of steam following me into the hall like I'm JayLo entering the stage instead of the dark narrow tunnel that leads to my bedroom. But I can barely think about it, or strut into my room singing, "If You Had My Love," into my fist flinging my wet hair, I can't do any of that because I hear Mom on the phone downstairs. She's obviously home from spiffing up her classroom, or Kate's classroom as Mom is just an aid…with a Master's degree, pulling in the big bucks, all eighteen-thousand of them…a year. Anyway, Mom is speaking with that energy that would be like Flight of the Bumblebee if it was music.

She only speaks that high-pitched way to Horny. Alice.

I have this urge to shout over the banister in an Italian accent, like Al Pacino in Scarface, "Ma, what the fuck you doin'?" But I don't do that because we're not Italian. So I run in my room and pull on underwear, the kind you can wear proudly to the hospital if you're in a car accident, I mean stylistically, not…well nappy green with yellow polka-dots, and I snap on my completely shot and useless favorite flesh colored bra…about as supportive as my dear old dad Charlie. Now I do hurry to the top of the stairs. "Mom, who are you talking to?"

She ignores me.

"Mom!"

She keeps talking.

"Mom! Mom! Mom!" I say this running down the stairs. I've perfected this in early childhood, saying Mom over and over until she answers.

But she doesn't even see me standing there in my underwear chanting her name.

So I do the hand wave in her face and she does blink and bow her back to escape my hand, but she just keeps talking without even looking at me.

"Mom! Mom! Mom!"

So I shut up and hear what she's actually saying, "…forget Match, Alice. I'm telling you I could twerk up a freaking storm with this man. A what? A twerking sandwich?" Then raucous, obscene, non-example-setting laughter. "No I get the front…his front…oh you're foul. You did not say that. Alice Kaye Brandon you sick little…." More raucous laughter.

It's happening. It's actually happening. She's seen him. Good shit she's met him. She's objectifying him, stripping him of soul, spirit, turning him into man-meat. But wait. No wait.

I'm tapping her shoulder and am completely off guard when she nearly backhands me and jumps and screams all at the same time. "Why are you hitting me Bella Marie? I swear to God I'm going to break that finger!"

She seems to notice me finally. "And get your clothes on!"

"Mom, Mom I need to talk to you," I appeal, inducing as much guilt into her mother-psyche as possible.

"I am speaking with Alice." There is an energy rolling off of her and it's not a hot flash.

"You've been with Alice all day. I need you for five minutes. Your daughter?" My hands are on my hips. I readjust the front of my underwear so no pubes are showing.

Mom just grunts disgust and says, "I'll call you back Alice. No. Oh. Okay. See you in twenty."

She hangs up.

"No," I moan. "Not her. We've got five more episodes of Luther," I say.

"Bella…you're going to have to start wearing clothes. We have a new neighbor."

I look at the window I'm pretty well standing next to. With that growth on the fence he'd have to…get close and peer through like he did earlier to see me. And then the lights aren't on, so chill out Mom.

"About that guy…."

"What guy, Bella Marie? Do you mean Edward Cullen?"

When she said, 'Edward Cullen,' there was this lift in her voice and this light in her eyes and I wasn't even capable of imagining what was happening anywhere else on her person. But I've seen it before cause she's brought one long string of losers through our lives and she loves, loves the attraction phase—phase one of a relationship where you project onto him who you think he is, based of course on whom you want him to be in your fantasy-life, and he projects onto you who he imagines you to be, and as long as you can keep that illusion alive and not burst that balloon, and let me tell you it can be popped in a split second, then you stay in the euphoria of that phase like you're one another's…heroin.

Mom loves that phase. She doesn't love anything beyond it…like reality. Mom hates reality. She says she's a hopeless romantic. Yeah, she calls it that. And I'm a freaking Polar Bear.

So in her denial she keeps broadening her range on Match too, younger to older, kind of widening the trajectory, the spread. We have everything from crazy old Vietnam vets to freaked out mama's boys who've never…ahem, launched. We've had all the stops in between those two endpoints as well. And now she is fishing in our own backyard…practically and I can already feel the disastrous humiliation this will bring.

It's the knock on the door that pulls me out of my musings. I have to turn just a little to see him. And he sees me. Oh boy does he, Edward Cullen, our new neighbor…who has shaved…and is gawking at me, then looking away, hand in his hair.

I can just now move, just now. I thought it was Horny. That's who I expected to see. But…I'm completely shocked by this man. Twice.

I run up the stairs to my room, the sound in my neck…and I get in my room and slam the door and pace back and forth, back and forth…Oh God, I say, or think. I don't know. He saw me. He saw me in my underwear.

I go to the closet and yank it open. There's a full length mirror and I swear I forgot it was there. I can now see what he just saw.

I am almost naked. My nipples aren't even, my boobs shoved haphazardly in this bra, one nipple scrunched up ready to shoot a hole in the ceiling, one pointing straight at me. These underwear are so old…and crazy faded and at the seam…side seam…a hole. Did he see me tuck my pubes? I don't know. I don't know anything, but I have to die now. I should.

But I'm not able to kill myself. I don't believe in it. But my God.

Mother is knocking, but she doesn't actually wait for me to answer, which is what makes a knock worthwhile, but she comes right in. "Bella he says he didn't see you."

I am incredulous. They have talked about this? "He's a liar!" I yell which is almost as embarrassing…no, it's not nearly that embarrassing.

"He didn't see anything," Mom insisted.

"Oh my God," I groan hoping to blot out her voice.

"Don't pull on your face, Bella. You'll be so sorry someday."

I stop pulling and stare at her. "Mom…go downstairs."

"Not until you tell me you're alright. It's a big deal…someone bringing life to that house again…."

Mom stares at me now. She does this all the time. All the time. She says something…then she stares at me. I've never been able to understand what she wants me to do when she stares.

"Mom…go downstairs."

"No Bella. I am not going downstairs until we talk about this."

"Go downstairs."

"He didn't think a thing of you standing there in your little panties."

"Oh my God," I yell, "do not ever say panties in my hearing. I hate that word. You know I…did he say that? Did he say panties to you?"

"No. He said he didn't see anything."

"He saw plenty," I said with this scathing tone that just showed up on its own.

"He's a very nice…."

"You don't even know this jack ass."

"Bella Marie don't you dare…."

"Don't I dare what? You don't know this guy, Mom. And now he's seen my underwear."

"You aren't showing anymore than any girl in a bathing suit."

"I am in my underwear, Mom. You can see my vagina!"

Her eyes go there and I put my hands in front of it. "Stop looking at it."

"Honey I told you you have to wear clothes. We have a neighbor now."

"I didn't expect him to show up at the front door…which you left open by the way. But you had to make him feel right at home, didn't you. I can just hear it. You invited him over, didn't you?"

"Not tonight. Friday night."

"Game night? You asked him to game night?"

"Bella…stop. He's our neighbor."

"You know men aren't allowed…you know this."

"He's not a man, Bella."

I didn't know how the hell to respond to that.

"Anyway, Mike comes, Jacob comes. Merle comes."

"Those are sons, Mom. Sons of people who come, annoying boys. And Merle is eighty."

"They are neighbors, honey. That's the commonality. They're neighbors. You get a new neighbor…you invite them over. It's what good Christians do."

"Like a twerk sandwich? I mean…invite him over so you and Horny can make a twerk sandwich…with him…on him?" I ask.

"Twerk sandwich?" she smiles. She laughs. She twinkles. She shines. She is beaming, almost lost in the mental picture she…we are making. Sick!

"I am feeling very violated here. So I don't know why you have that ridiculous look…."

"Honey, let it go," she says. "Don't overthink this. You'll just make yourself…uncomfortable."

I take in a big breath. "You sure I wasn't adopted?" I ask, hoping she is ready to tell me. Finally.

She laughs, of course. "No such luck, kiddo. I was there when that big beautiful head of yours ripped its way out of…."

"Mom," I say sharply. "Go downstairs."

"What are you going to do up here by yourself?"

"Watch Luther on my laptop."

"You're not going to wait for me?"

I take a big breath. "I'll…just watch one."

She smiles and pats my arm. "Put your pants on honey. You'll forget all about it."

"Mom…you're not…interested in this guy…." I flap my hand toward Frieda's house. "I mean…awkward…right?" I try to laugh a little, but it's kind of a choke and I cough.

"You think he's too young?"

"I don't know him. Don't want to. He's just…he's too close."

"Honey…you know I like to have a good time. I'm not…but if something were to develop…naturally… well I'm always willing to…."

"You could always say no, Mom. You and Alice act like you have no power." God knows I've tried to be a good example to them, show them life could really happen without constantly having to have a man…between your ears. "Did he like…flirt?"

"He's just a nice person, Bella. A nice guy. Cute as…those eyes they're like…."

I am squirming now, my legs crossed like a camel's. "Yuck."

"I know. TMI?"

"Um…whatever."

She squeezes my arm like we are besties, then she leaves me alone. I plop onto my bed and fling my arm over my eyes.

His face when he looked at me, it wasn't pervy. Just shocked. But he'd let his eyes travel a little, and they'd grown huge. And that jaw…he was different looking…more defined. I saw all that in a split second. He is probably disgusted. And now my mom and Horny are going to try to turn him into the coldcut on their…bun. Oh God.

Not only has he taken over my kingdom, he's humiliated me in to the prison of my room, and he is invited to game night. I have three days to let him know he is uninvited. And just in case he's confused he needs to know my mother is strictly off-limits too.

I haven't lived here my whole life to be run off now. We didn't move when Freida was killed. We don't run. I may be stuck in my room right now…temporarily humiliated and traumatized…but I shall overcome, and when I do I shall strike back with the force of a tiger. Or a really mean alley-cat.


	3. Chapter 3

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 3

They are down there laughing for the rest of the evening, squealing and giggling. I swear how can these two be teachers…aids with their dirty, dirty talk. I can't even go down there for my chocolate cupcake Mom brought me from the deli the other day. I need my decaf, too, but I'm stuck up here cause I'm not giving Horny the satisfaction of smirking at me because I'm sure Mom has told her by now about the underwear scandal…tragedy.

I am thinking too much about him. Him. Him. I don't think another man, boy has even seen me in my underwear except for Dr. Rob. I have not been the kind…I don't want to show my stuff like that. I've never sexted. I think Mom has. God I need a group to admit this stuff too. "I'm Bella. My mom's a…good woman…but morally compromised. Oh hell she's a…slut."

It's psychologically damaging to think about Mom getting cozy with so many guys. And don't give me that two hands shit. I can count the guys I've been with on two hands. But how many times over? Mom, I've said on too many occasions, it's two o'clock in the morning. Where have you been?

Everything is funny with this woman. She has no middle ground.

The next morning, I am at my laptop, propped there in my bed against my gel pillows, and I like two because I sleep on a slight incline because it helps my digestion, when I hear something start up, through my window, like the roar of an engine. What the hell and while I'm trying to see out my window and I just glance him, Edward Cullen, sawing things along the fenceline, his shoulders…wide, arms…strong…my cell rings.

It's like I'm being attacked from two vantage points. I hurry to my bed and dig amongst the white sheets and find my phone. It's my boss. Great. What does he want?

"What?" I say in greeting.

Laughter. God, if you think about it, the animalisticness of laughing, making ridiculous sounds like a freaking animal. Laughter is just embarrassing.

"Hello Bella," Jasper says in a tone you might use on a moron.

"Yo," I say, but I say it like you'd say, 'okay,' or 'go on,' when you aren't quite buying it.

"Bella, Bella," he says, no more laughing. Shucks.

I am still in my underwear which is one of the reasons I love working from home.

The saw's incessant whine goes up a notch and I stick my finger in my free ear and continue to rubber neck it from my window. Edward Cullen is removing the only defensive line we have against Frieda's house. More violation. He pisses me off more than any man has had the guts to do and we've barely spoken. Who the hell does he think he is….

"Bella?"

"What do you want?" I ask Jasper cause there are always these gaps when you talk with him like he's setting up his words like they're tin soldiers or something.

"Um…it's your boss," he says. Stater of the obvious. I never respect that. Him.

"Yay," I say back. I'm looking for my shorts, not the cut-offs but those ones Mom was going to throw away and I snatched them off the pile. They're a little big, but I could be buried in them, like spend forever in them they're so soft.

Jasper takes a breath and launches into his attempt to be bossy, or boss-like. I'm saying, done, done, a hundred times as I give up on the shorts and decide on a skirt instead, one I can step right in to. It's white with little blue flowers. I think I made this…I know I did, of course, like ten years ago. It matches my blue undershirt…that I'm wearing. I lift my arm to check the hair, yeah I'm good…if I keep my arms down.

Jasper is going on, not with the flow because of the needed breaks like his brain has that delay. I can't help that I process at the speed of light. I have a war on my hands down in the yard. All of a sudden I hear Jasper say, "Or I can bring them out Friday evening on my way…."

"No," I say.

"What?"

"No," I repeat, dragging out the 'o' to make it a longer word cause he's obviously needing more than n and o can give on their own.

He's saying something about why he could drop off the papers on his way…yadda, yadda, and I'm holding the hair on top of my head, in that mirror again, and I grab a shirt off the floor and quickly dust the glass as Edward's saw drops a note and thank God I can think for a minute. Then I go back to the hair and how I could put it up in that hap-hazard way that's right down my alley.

Jasper is just grasping my rejection. About freaking time.

"I'm not coming in, Jasper. No way I'm getting in that traffic on the bridge."

He is the boss, he says, and I need to work with him, yakity-yak.

"No," I say again because he offers to bring the binders…again, like I haven't already answered this once.

He says he's bringing them, dropping them off and he hangs up on me.

Infuriating. I hurry to the window cause the saw has suddenly stopped. I'm not going to let this guy, this interloper scare me off. He looked in my door and I should feel…strange? No. No way. He should bear all the shame…all the freaking shame. And now he's clearing my hedge of…protection? I find my flip-flops and stick my feet in. Damn that chipped polish.

I stop in the bathroom to brush my teeth because…obvious.

Down the stairs. He's at the fence, near my garden. Just taken off his shirt in fact, arms still tangled in it as he looks my garden over, but when I push out the screen and let it slap closed, his eyes are on me soon enough. I walk with purpose, it ain't a runway buddy, and my flips are flopping with these angry, efficient snaps everytime I take a step his…naked way. He lifts his arms and slides his shirt back on, and he picks up his saw and I'm very near the weak-ass vegetation that's on my side of the fence, across from where he stands, and it's not so thick now that he's leveled his half.

"Good morning," he says. "I hope I didn't wake you."

My hand goes to my face. Am I puffy? Who the freak cares. "What are you doing?" Oh crap, I'm Jasper. We hate the things in others we hate in ourselves. It's true. I couldn't have asked a dumber question.

Cullen holds up the saw.

"We've met," I say cleverly.

"Sorry. And about yesterday…I didn't mean…."

I hold up my hand, "Don't talk about it."

He stops. It's an, 'oh shit,' look, kind of…I better watch him is all. He's like…manipulative. His face…very expressive and he's not afraid to use it. It's just a face but…it could be as deadly as that chainsaw if one wasn't prepared…for its…roar…and now he's throwing it around, the big eyes, not the saw, thank God…but the lips…well it all works together and ropes you in…if you're weak.

"Say…would it be alright if I hopped the fence and cleaned out your side?"

Hopped and cleaned out my…it's just disarming, that's all. I'm not used to this much conversation…with a human…besides mom I don't…encourage this…boldness.

"This is my yard. My sanctuary. I don't ask you to understand. Just…respect. I come out here in the morning…check my tomatoes…," I do like a Vanna hand toward my garden and then it flops against my side…the hand.

They look great, by the way," he interjects and I swear his eyes glance over my breasts, not an obvious ogle, but a sly drop incorporated with a quick look at my garden, a clearing of the throat. "You do this yourself?"

There're no elves, Cullen, in the real gardening world. But I am not here to discuss my process. Or to make smalltalk, which I loathe and refuse to be proficient at on principle. I look over my shoulder at the garden to break from studying his face. He's quite the looker, and so what? He lucked out is all. It has nothing to do with his character. He was bestowed a certain symmetry, pure luck, and why should the world fall at his feet because of it? Cure cancer buddy, then we'll talk.

So I turn back to him. He smiles. It's a cheery smile. He's apparently a morning person. Bully for him.

"I work from home…so…."

"Your mom mentioned that. Sounds like a good gig. Hey look, about last night…."

My hand goes up again. Oh, he is a regrouper. Not the submissive soul I'd hoped. He just comes back later…with that voice. And my mother…that Judas? "No."

He pulls his chin in a little. His jaw, on display now, one small nick from the razor, but flawless other than that. Mom is so going to try and get their parts together. And Horny will be beating the drum.

"I never meant to…I'm sorry to have made you uncomfortable," he said, like I hadn't told him no. Not good. He went down a couple of notches…not down on me…cause that's not the picture I wanted right now and I knew all the dirty talk from Mom and H., but down in my estimation is what I meant.

"I like the privacy this strip of vegetation affords…well I did like it until you butchered it," I say, realizing my voice is a little too loud, so I adjust and say more softly, "and I imagine you have lots more to do than remove our hedge. You can't have unpacked already."

"That's the thing, I don't have water. That's ah…why I came over yesterday evening…to ask if I can use your hose…until…." He scratches the back of his head. The hair…it's a natural riot, and with the strong face, features so…well the hair gets a pass. And his arm, the exposed underside of it, he is interesting, not a complete meatball at all…I just mean….

My hand is up again. Word traffic cop. I hadn't even told my hand to lift. I wonder now if I have any control over myself…socially…or if my body has taken over and I don't even have to be here…mentally.

"Oh sorry," he says, and the arm drops and there's…amusement? Am I a joke or something?

"Don't make changes," I say. "It's enough you're here. Just don't…bring a brass band, you know?"

Now he's not smiling. "What does that mean?"

Oh. My kind of question except I don't like it leveled at me.

"Just leave things alone. You want to live here, fine. Just stay over there…you know?"

"Wow," he says low, staring at me, those eyes, what is with those eyes?

"I'm…" What am I? Sorry? Mean?

"No, I get it. You're right. It's…I didn't mean to…maybe later. I'll do yours later."

What? My mother?

I just can't stay here…look at those eyes anymore.

I flip-flop my way back into the house. Once again I get inside and lean against the door. I'm huffing and puffing about like when I'd hurried the day before, but I hadn't hurried this time. What the heck is it with this guy? He's got me…I don't know. I can't believe this.

I grab the colander. This is the time I pick my tomatoes. I always pick my tomatoes first thing. I'm not going to not pick them just because this guy is attacking my life…fence.

I go back outside. My cat Muffins has miraculously appeared. "You're home," I say, but my eyes are darting. Cullen stands. He'd been squatting, fiddling with his saw, but he stands now.

I look away and go back to my garden. I hate this, being in his movie when…this is my place, my private place, not my privates. Damn must everything now be an innuendo? What am I…Alice?

"Hey Bella, do you mind if I finish this…on my side? I mean, well the noise…."

"I do mind," I say with feeling, like one of the patriots might have addressed the first congress over the tyranny of England. It's that kind of feeling. Crazy.

"Oh. Whoa." He says this.

"I mean…," the hand…mine…its flapping now. It tell it to stop, to pick a tomato or something. So I put my back to Cullen and bend over to grab a tomato that's fallen…and can't get up…and I feel a breeze, and I reach behind me, the skirt, it's blowing in the wind…like the answers, and I stand quickly and look back at him…because the same underwear…surely not…he didn't…and he's looking right at me, and he pulls the cord on the saw…and it roars to life.


	4. Chapter 4

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 4

The following day I see Edward out front of Freida's sitting on her stoop picking on a guitar. He hasn't seen me so I pretend I haven't seen him. I hold the box with the plate of rice and meat and the smaller plate of salad. I take slow steps across the street, my destination the small house directly across from Freida's. Or Edward's as we must call it now. Edward is playing some chords, and he's started to sing, and he's gotten louder and I hear my name in there, in the song, but I don't turn, I'm carrying food and I'm not coordinated enough to look behind me as I walk forward. That's my story.

I reach old Billy's porch and put the box on the old metal TV tray beside the door and knock on the old metal screendoor. I hear the TV and the afternoon news. I see him in there in the recliner.

"Okay," he says and I can tell he's been sleeping.

I don't say anything, he knows the drill, and I have to turn now and walk all that way in front of Edward and try to ignore him when he's playing music and singing about me.

I can hear more of the words now, as he keeps turning up the volume. He's looking right at me while he plays. He looks cute playing that thing. "She's a girl, she's a girl, she's a tomato growing girl," he's finishing, then he waves, and I wave and keep going toward my house. No one's ever composed a song about me before. Not a nice one anyway.

"Hey Bella, wait up," he says, and he sets his guitar aside and catches up. By then I am looking over our mail. Not that I care a fruit fly about it. I slap the door closed on the mailbox and wait for him to say something.

"Bella?"

I look up. Edward is wearing a T-shirt, looks new and Fruit-of-the-Loom-y. He has on beige shorts, loose, to the knee and old tennis shoes.

"I saw you walking past my house last night with a flashlight."

"I was on the sidewalk," I say defensively. He can't know how I'm looking back, trying to get used to the eyes of Freida's house, being lit again, being alive.

He laughs. "You don't have a dog."

"He died," I say softly. I still can't talk about it without choking up.

"Oh. Sorry. I mean…it's the neighborhood watch thing, right? Your mom said you started it after…."

"No I didn't." God I'm so defensive again but when in hell did Mom give him my life story? "Well I didn't. Billy started it," I use the mail to gesture toward Billy's house. "I walked it with him…since…ten years old."

"Wow."

There is this silence and I forget not to stare at him. I'm so much like Mom. Damn.

"So…you feed him?" he asks.

"Take him lunch," I say quickly. Like I'm ready to fight about it. Actually, it's enough for two meals. He doesn't eat as much as he used to.

Then this blurts out, and I'm always as surprised as everyone else to hear myself, "Do you have a job?"

Edward laughs and pulls a face like I caught him stealing or something. "No." He laughs again. "I did have. But…I left it. To move here. Fresh start."

I have work to do. I eat my lunch then I work until two when I break to do the laundry and feed my cat and walk around my garden a bit, then take a basket of tomatoes and things over to Leah's for the Wednesday market. She bakes pies and I send produce and she mans the table…at the Farmer's Market. By two-forty-five I'm back at my laptop. With my decaf.

So why did he need a fresh start? Mom would ask. Alice…would so ask. "I have…some rice…just peppers and chicken. On the back porch? Or out here…on the front, yeah. Just…you can sit on the steps and I'll bring it out."

He laughs again. "That sounds amazing but you're putting me in mind of…hoboes and women feeding them."

"Sounds like an old black and white," I say, and it's almost…well better than most of the things I ever say.

"Yeah I love that stuff," he says, "the old stuff."

I do too, but…it's just…where can this go, this sharing of personal information? I can't be his friend. But I wonder what he thought about the new Mildred Pierce, or the old one for that matter, but the new one has hot sex, and I can't ask him anyway.

So I go in and he must figure it out cause when I come out carrying two plates, and kind of dying that we're going to do this…eat together…he's sitting on the steps but he's gone for his guitar and he's playing again and singing, she's a girl, she's a girl, she's a lunch cooking girl.

It's just ridiculous. To be this flattered. He's probably sung that song a hundred times for a hundred girls and all of them going, oh Elvis inside and him trying not to laugh.

So what in the hell am I thinking. He might get the wrong idea about me and here we are living side by side already and I'll never get rid of him. It's too much.

So I hand him a plate, fluffy white rice and chicken and vegetables I've grown, and three different colors of sliced tomatoes for an accent and also because they're so damned good to eat.

And he takes a bite even with the steam coming off, and he tilts back his head and says, "Oh Bella…man," and he moans and I'm just holding my plate and I think my mouth is open, no it is. And just to cover the awkward I ask if he's seen Mildred Pierce, and he has, both versions and right off he says, "Well baring the hot sex in the new one…."

And after that I don't know what the hell he says I'm just so caught up in how he says it.

111111111111111111111111111111

Game Night 1

"It's not right. It's not right. I've told you and told you it can't be this powdered stuff it has to be grated." I am stirring the yellowish sauce with the bamboo spoon.

"Bella it's not the end of the world," Mom says, no energy in her voice. Well, it's just me, it's not like I'm a student…or Alice…or Edward. Talk about energy, she has plenty when she's telling him my life story, all my personal business I'll bet. I've forbidden her to say anything about me, even my name, to the guys she meets on Match. I've had to reiterate the rules to her for Edward. She told me to chill. No, to chill-ax. So down with the kids.

"Oh…nothing matters. Right. Nothing is important. Put all this effort in for nothing," I say, and the truth is I'm a nervous wreck. We've got all these people coming…the neighbors we've lived around, well Mom has for thirty years, and me…all my life, and now this new guy…um Edward, and Jasper looming. What is happening to us?

"You've made it with the powdered cheese before," Mom says absently, her jeweled glasses catching the overhead light as she sorts through the mail.

Does she not understand? It has to be perfect! It has to be!

"Are we related? Really?" I ask because I've always had this feeling she's holding things back.

She smirks but she doesn't even stop reading the Wal-Mart ad.

"Because you can tell me," I continue as I stir, stir, stir.

"Bella, people are going to be here and you're still in your underwear."

I look at the clock. Oh crap. Time never gets away from me like this. I'm in my underwear and undershirt but I'm wearing an apron so I don't get food on me. But dude from next door is not going to catch me this way again. You can bet on that.

"Stir this," I say, meaning the Alfredo.

"I can't right now, honey. I have to change. Did you put the soda in the tub?"

"We're not having soda. I made peach tea."

"Not everyone likes peach tea honey. Alice doesn't."

I made a sound. Like I give a flying fig what Alice likes.

"I made lemonade."

She looks at me now, frowns.

"Get some Diet Cokes on ice honey. And not a word about the Splenda ooze from someone's brain or something."

"Aspartame, Mom. Splenda is sucralose."

"I stand corrected. Again," she says pitching the mail in the drawer. She pushes it closed with a loud snap and she's off to beautify. Her hair is already perfect, she wears it short and stylish, her clothes are fine, but she'll want to sex it up probably and 'work her magic' as she calls it. Well she's not bad for forty-four. She gets a lot of hits on Match, not that I'm sure that's a compliment. She has these poodle eyes…begging to be petted or something. She attracts losers. Like my dad the angry cop.

I always ask her…why him? Once she said he was a good dancer and I told her I was really impressed by her criteria for picking my dad, and sometimes she says, we were young and in lust, and that answer always makes me scream so she'll shut up. To be the product of their…fever hotter than a pepper sprout…well so much for self-esteem.

I turn off the burner and move the sauce to the side. The texture is grainy because Mom can't seem to appreciate that when I say a block of parmesan I am not saying a can of parmesan and some sawdust.

Someone is opening the front door as I run up the stairs, my butt bouncing in my underwear as I reach behind and untie the apron. I figure it's Alice using the key Mom gave her…giving out keys to our house like we're city hall. But it's Alice and our new neighbor from the sound of it.

"Was that Bella?" I hear Edward say.

I run like the stairs are collapsing behind me. He could only have seen the bottoms of my legs, my feet, disappearing up the stairs, not my jiggly butt in the pink and purple underwear. God no.

In my room, I consider locking my door and refusing to come out but I know if I do that they'll all come up here to talk me down.

I'm sweating and I feel sick to my stomach. I'll just tell myself it didn't really happen and I'll get through supper without looking at Edward and then I'll slip back up here and hope they don't notice.

I have laid out my clothes. I never do that. It's just jean shorts and a top and some sandals, but I really thought about it. And things are shaved…and plucked. And my hair is up. Thank you Youtube and that one girl that tells you how to make a lot of braids in the back and pin them up. I redid my toes. And I look like…I'm trying. For what? If Jacob comes over, or Mike, they better not say anything.

I almost put on the mascara, but I don't want to go crazy here. So I get dressed really quick because my tomatoes are still in the oven, and even that sounds sexual.

I hurry back down, except on the last couple of stairs I stop and breathe. Then I walk more sedately into the kitchen. First eyes I connect with are Edward's because I forgot to casually look at Alice and avoid him.

"Hello," I say to them…to him, my face getting all heated. Edward raises his brows and you really can't miss it when he does that. I almost thought he was going to whistle cause he made that purse-string mouth. If he would have it would be so humiliating, like I'm going to prom. Right off I see he is harder to ignore indoors, even with the appliances around he can't be…dwarfed. His hair…it's very thick and shiny and I've made it sound like a new car, but it has something to do with taking a ride and I don't want to think that out now.

I make a racket unhooking my pasta pan from the rack over the butcher block in the middle of the room.

Alice is pimping him. As a professional dater she's a master at getting information and keeping the conversation going. She's wearing some perfume that is ruining the smell of the seasoned bread crumbs on my tomatoes. She never quite…blends…Alice. And her jewelry rattles.

"Bella, did you make all this?" Edward asks, touching a couple of the pans that are still swinging from where I've chosen my favorite one for pasta. He is gesturing to all the food on the island, the appetizers. I nod, but I try not to look at him. It's obvious I've gone overboard. So, so Renee.

When he walks closer and leans against the counter I finish filling the pan with water and carry it to the stove. He's further away again.

He is…really handsome. He could be in the movies, no lie. He's more handsome than a lot of the leading men are. I don't know why I'm thinking of this.

"Did you hear what Edward said, Bella? He brought some beer and put it on the backporch in the tub," Alice said. Alice so often requires I'm her version of polite. If her requirements were milk bone tossed at my feet like my mother's puppy, then I am the puppy who rarely picks up the bone.

Mom came in then. She looks pretty in a deep blue top that only shows a little of her boob crack. She wears the tight jeans. And the noisy flippy sandals.

She gushes over Edward and strokes his arm a little, asks him how he is settling in, thanks him for ruining our fence-hedge, only she doesn't say anything about it being ruined, she likes it and he says, "If it's alright with Bella I'd like to keep going on it, clear it off."

"Why in the world would Bella mind?" Mom says and they are all looking at me as I am adding fresh basil to the water for the pasta and I stare at each before turning away and ignoring them.

I have to take my tomatoes from the oven and that brings Edward right there, near me, which is always annoying when people close in on me in the kitchen. If it were Jake or Mike I'd send them out of here, but Edward isn't as easy to send away. And he seems to always be starving or something. He is a little on the thin side, but very muscular, as I'd seen in the yard…and what he'd seen…of me…and repeatedly…I didn't want to think about it.

I have two trays of these monsters so I set one on the side of the stove not in use and the other I put on a hot pad on the island along with my dips and veggies and fruits. Then I get my bowl of homemade pesto from the fridge and start to put some in a smaller bowl. Edward is at my elbow again. "What's this?"

Mom and Alice are talking about what music to put on, and I put some pesto on a spoon so Edward can taste it and I was going to hand him the white plastic utensil when he takes my wrist instead and raises the spoon to his lips and takes in the bite. "Mmm, Bella, my God. That's really good." He licks his lips. "And you grow the basil?"

"Yes," I remember to say.

He lets go of my wrist, folds his arms. "I saw you walking the past two nights."

What can I say? It's what I do…I walk at night and look for bad guys.

"Maybe I could take a turn with you…or for you," he hastens to say. "I mean…it's my block too now, right?"

I don't know about that. It may be where he lives…but it will never be anyone's like it's mine. But that's too heavy and ancient to try and explain. So I don't. I shoot him a look and I'm adding some olive oil to the water.

I always walk alone now, ever since Billy lost his leg. I always walk alone.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for reading this and communicating. Much appreciation. Yes, the title is deliberate. Blame Bella.

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 5

Game Night 2

Cullen likes to eat. He is interested in all the flavors. He chews with his mouth closed, sometimes his eyes and he savors.

Mom and Alice don't know this, but I do. Mom and Alice talk and eat, but I can see he's like me, he wants to remember. And one thing at a time is enough if you're really letting it bombard you.

But Mom and Alice are…multi's. Not multi-taskers, they are that, they're teacher's…aids, but they are multi…a lot…a lot. They are the big birds skimming over the water, wings beating fast, then dipping and dipping for food, but not too deep, mouths…wide…open.

Cullen though…he's something different. I think.

And I'll bet he's not unpacked because…I'll bet he's not. And I haven't seen the boxes on the curb.

But he has been playing his guitar and he did cut down a patch along the fence. Damn him. But I'll bet other things aren't done. And that's not because we're alike, because I always finish certain things. It's because he doesn't want to do them. He thinks he does, but he doesn't, and then he ends up playing his guitar.

What I'm saying is, he's not a loser. He's just having a time of being a loser. That's my guess anyway.

Or better put-he's fallen in to an alternate universe. And here we are. We live in his alternate universe. I do. That means he's lived in mine.

Mom and Alice are on either side of him, like the stereo speakers hooked to Mom's turntable. I try not to think about the twerking sandwich. That will come later during the dancing. I figure I'll give him a good meal then he's on his own.

Mom nudges Edward with her elbow and says something like, "So how you settling in over there?" and Alice says, "See any ghosts?" and when Alice says that the room hic-cups us into a place I know very well…a wtf place. Leave it to her to invade even this space of mine.

But they answer all his questions about my food. I am anxious. I think those are my questions. But they seem ready to answer them for me, a long habit, so I don't have a thing to say, but the food is good. If not for the texture of the sauce it would be great. But according to everyone else it is great.

So I finish eating and go in the living room to check on Merle and Pearlie. Others come and go, but Merle and Pearlie stay for twenty minutes or so. Merle is tall and white-haired and his whole life is Pearlie. Merle dyes Pearlie's hair a deep flaming red like she is a burning match. He must see her this way…his exotic, flaming Pearlie. The rest of the world might see a short white woman with large teeth.

They are having pie. I made that with Leah's apples. They tell me it's very good. I tell Pearlie I liked her yellow Jello with the grated carrots. But now I bring her purple carrots and she loves to make it using those. Merle tells me how good they feel with the neighborhood watch going strong. He's been telling me this for seventeen years, but if he didn't say it, it would drive me crazy. So now that he's said it I go to the front door and look over at Billy's. Nothing.

"Jacob bringing him over?" Merle says. He means Billy, is Jacob bringing his dad. But you never know. I don't. Jacob has spurts, between girlfriends, where he brings Billy over. But lately, Billy doesn't want to come. And I leave his lunch on the porch because it's the only time we can get him out of his chair cause he even pees in a mason jar.

"I might go get him," I say.

"I like the purple carrots," Pearle says, beautiful smile. Merle pats her hand. Pearle is on a delay and it's not old age, it's always been that way.

I go outside, head down the porch stairs and across the street, and try not to remember Edward's song with the two verses he sang for me when he watched me cross the street the other day. Leah is walking toward my house carrying a bowl. I know it's kale chips. We don't wave because she knows I see her.

I get to Billy's and take the stairs. I cup my hands around my eyes and look in the door. He's in his chair. "Want me to take you over?" I call.

"No."

"He coming?" I mean Jacob. I really mean is Jacob getting off in time to bring Billy, or not on a date, or is Billy coming or is he being morose. That's Renee's description, morose.

Billy waves like I should leave him alone.

So I do. But if he doesn't come I always send a plate.

Two things happen as I'm re-entering my house. Jacob gets home from work and pulls in Billy's drive-way, and Jasper Whitlock pulls a low to the ground shiny car in front of my house. I know it's Jasper because his hair is one of a kind hair and even though he gets it cut in different ways and he likes to wear hats, it's still his crazy Jasper corkscrew hair. I know at the office they call him Shirley Temple, but I can't remember if they do that in front of him or behind his back.

I hold the door for Leah and she says, "You were short on cauliflower again."

"I only had five," I say. She has the produce for the Saturday morning market. She thinks I make this stuff in an oven or something. Only God can make a tree, Leah, but I don't say Kilmer's line out loud, but it's what I know.

But I go on in and try to get my face right for answering the door and seeing Jasper. I never, ever wanted to see someone here…from work. I hear voices coming from Mom's bedroom. Mom and Alice and Edward are laughing from there. Edward's laugh with their laughs is like change left in the dryer. What I mean is, you know it shouldn't be in there so it's just…annoying.

I look in there because Jasper is here and I don't want to answer the door. So I look in Mom's room because I need her to come out and answer Jasper.

The three of them are lying on their backs on Mom's king-size, Edward in the middle, and they all have their ankles crossed, and they're holding bottles of beer on their stomachs, and they're looking up at the ceiling.

"Bella, this is amazing," Edward says soon as I show. "You're a Renaissance woman!"

One second ago I was mad, but now that's bent into…Renaissance woman? A cliché and something so new for me so is it a cliché? Yes it is.

I don't know why I was so mad…well I do…there are many reasons, shouting in my head like a Roman crowd watching gladiators go at it. I hear the word kill…in my head.

"Mom you have to come answer the door. And Mom, Merle needs coffee," I say in the hope of shaming her out of that bed with Edward cause Merle….. She needs to help me.

"Are you ready?" Mom says to the others as if I haven't spoken. She reaches onto her nightstand and turns on the cylindrical lamp there and stars take over the room, a slow, steady explosion of them, they're everywhere and they move around the painted ceiling, my almost, and embarrassing masterpiece, and the walls and furniture, and on us, the same stars over and over, sliding on me…sliding on Edward. He's watching them, on me, his head still lifted, he grins and watches.

Jasper's knock pulls me out of it. "Mom, Mom," I say again more urgently cause Merle is also calling me to come get the door.

Edward's head is still lifted. He looks from me to Mom and that makes Mom lift her head.

"We should…Bella needs…." He said this.

"My body is walking in space," Mom says, letting her head drop on the pillow. She's singing from Hair. The play Hair. She quotes it all the time, well hardly ever, but enough. God.

"What was that?" Edward laughs.

"My soul is in orbit with God face to face," Mom continues.

"Mom's on a drug-free acid trip," I explain to Edward, but I say it like I'm ready to slap a hippy.

I leave then cause Mom is so embarrassing, singing, "Floating, flipping, flying tripping."

I go in the living room and Jasper is standing there holding the binders I don't want. Merle let him in. "This fine young man says he's your boss," Merle says. He is tying a scarf under Pearlie's chin. It is hot outside, but Pearlie doesn't make heat anymore. She's already wearing a sweater. They will go home now. I'll put his coffee in a paper cup. So Jasper follows me into the kitchen and I'm pouring the coffee and I hold up my finger, not the one I want to hold up, but the pointer, and I take the coffee to Merle. He takes a sip and nods like I got it right, then he holds the door for Pearlie and they toddle out.

I can see Jacob pushing Billy across in his chair. Jacob is still wearing his white uniform from the store. Billy holds a box on his lap which means butchered and bloodied cow or pig wrapped in waxy white paper. Jacob works in meat.

How has Jasper ended up in Mom's room? But when I go in back, there is my boss standing in the doorway to my mother's room and Loonie One and Loonie Two are inviting him into the Love Boat. Edward has just shaken Jasper's hand and squeezed around him. He is smiling at me. My arms are folded. Jasper is being sucked into the star-studded vortex now. Good riddance.

So embarrassing.

"I feel like I just got off the magic bus," Edward said, smoothing two hands over his hair.

Not only am I distracted by how tall Edward seems in our hallway, but Jacob is behind me with the box of animal and that is distracting. He's says something, and I can only imagine it was, Hey I got meat, or something Jacob-like, and I say, Okay.

Edward introduces himself and Jacob just nods with that bunchy mouth. "Old lady Freida's? Yeah we wondered what fool…."

"What?" Jacob says to me cause I jumped right on that with a look.

"It's a long time ago, right?" Edward says, leaning near me once again as I fix Billy a plate.

Edward says, "Where is this going?" meaning the plate.

So he takes it to Billy. That's very nice.

Jacob goes to the fridge and unloads the box into the freezer section. "Brought you some chops and chorizo."

"Thanks," I say gathering some dishes to be washed.

"You look…." He motions over me like he's the pope giving a blessing.

This is what I feared, that he'd notice…the effort. I mean, for me it's like going from zero to five or six.

I hand him a plate as in, fill up that mouth with something besides your next words.

Singing from Mom's bedroom again. Jasper knows Hair.

I check the living room. Mike is here with his mom Tanya. Edward is standing, shaking Tanya's hand. Mike is already whistling at me saying, "Dang girl."

I hurry back to the kitchen and Jacob is washing his hands. The empty box is on the floor. It feels too crowded now. Usually I go outside and walk in my garden, or in winter I walk in the yard or I leave on patrol. No one notices.

But tonight I have taken the box Jacob brought to the trash cans outside. I smash the box and from in the house I hear laughter and someone starts the music. They'll dance now. It will get loud and crazy and then it will calm down and then it will be over and I'll clean.

But I am outside looking up at the real stars when the screendoor slaps. "Bella?"

It is Edward. "Bella?" he says again. I can't believe he came out here.

"I'm right here," I say, because if he will look to the left, here I am.

He comes down the steps. "Nice night."

"There are no bad nights. We're alive." I nearly groan. What am I talking about?

He has his hands in his pockets. His feet are bare. I guess I'm staring at his feet, mostly wondering if any part of him is just a little gross so I can feel more hopeful about myself.

"I took them off…God in your mother's bedroom. That sounds…just wrong," and he laughs.

It does sound wrong.

"Those guys are asking about you," he says, and I can hear those guys from in the house. Their voices carry. His eyes pick up the light from the moon. I believe the full moon makes people crazy.

"When do we start playing games?" he asks.

I am staring. He doesn't know about the Roman arena in my head. I'm actually very conversational just not out-loud.

"What games?"

"Um…game night…right?" His smile…it does nice things to his eyes.

"Oh…no games."

He laughs. He needs to quiet down or they'll all be out here.

"It's an old name. It used to mean games but…not since…for a long time."

He nods, still smiling. He looks beyond me to my garden. "Game night with no games. Got it."

We're quiet for a couple of minutes. Then he says, "It looks great even in the moonlight."

He means my garden. I turn and start walking there.

"I used to plant by the moon," I am saying, fully assuming he's coming along.

And he is. I already know he follows me easy. I reach the corn, the lower ears peeled and stripped or stolen. My tomatoes are healthy and green and bushy. I can see that fruit ripening. We walk through, Edward and me, he'll be itchy.

I name each thing. And I feel light-footed, I always do at night, like a fairy, and I skip a little. When no one is with me, I skip and run. But something scurries through the plants. Little life. Little thieves. Garden gnomes.

We reach the back fence, very close to my compost pile. I lean, he leans beside, a breeze picks up a little. Frank Sinatra pours from the house.

We look over the garden. We can see people moving in front of the kitchen window in the house and their voices, laughter.

There are a thousand questions in my mind I'd like to ask him, but not one can get out. Mostly, I want him to tell me all about my alternate universe, the life he's led, who he's been.

"I can smell the soil," he says.

"I know. It's not just the soil, it's thousands of years. People don't know, it's everything that's been…in that soil. But it's now, too. It's now meeting…then."

He looks at me, but it's not like anybody else looks at me. I'm not afraid of it. Not in this dark…light.

"Forget I said that." I don't want to scare him off and I need a friend who will let me use an eraser sometimes. I'm talking about a dinosaur's toenail fertilizing a Burpee's pole bean, that's all.

He studies me for a minute. "She's a girl, she's a girl, she's a philosophizing girl…," and there he goes again, singing softly, eyes twinkling at me while he plays an invisible guitar. And I'm rooted there like a vine on the fence, I couldn't move if Jesus came.

When Jacob calls out, standing with the screen open, me and Edward squat quick, and we're both trying not to laugh, but he's trying harder cause he puts his hand over my mouth, and I lick his palm and he laughs more but he doesn't take it away, and his palm wasn't rough and it tasted a little like soap.

But Jacob goes in and Edward takes his hand away.

"He thinks I'm walking," I say.

"He doesn't have a clue about you, does he?" Edward says.

We were staring, well I was. He was just receiving my stare with one of his own.

I stand slowly and Edward does too. Just like I said, he follows me easy.

"We should probably go back inside." I don't know who this girl is talking because I don't want to be anywhere but right here.

He shoves both of his hands in his pockets, but he's looking at me with this serious face. I wonder if he's mad at me. I don't know what I did. But I could keep looking at him.

"Bella…," he sweeps his hand that I should lead, and I walk slowly back through the garden, having this crazy feeling that his eyes are lazers on my back.

We get to the door and his hands are still in his pockets. "You go on in," he says. "I want to run home and get my guitar."

"Okay," I say, but I've still got that very weird feeling and I trip up the stairs.

He whispers, "Thanks for the tour."

I don't look back cause I'm likely to say anything.

As soon as I get in the blaring lights of the kitchen I can see they are all in the living room. Alice is teaching Jasper how to do some old dance step. Her hands are all over him, and he's flushed red and laughing it up. Billy is eating pie, his dinner plate empty. Jacob is tipped back on a chair talking to Mike. Tanya and Mom are shaking their tail feathers. Lord.

I step back in the kitchen before they see me. I don't know what happened out there in the yard…or if it was anything. Am I projecting? Is this phase one? I don't know what it was. I just know…I liked it.


	6. Chapter 6

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 6

Game Night 3

I'm built like my dad. Mom says this. Well I know I don't have that booty, the one shaking towards Jacob right now. Even Billy is smiling. Alice and Mom are pretending, sort of, to be doing their sandwich moves on Jacob and he's playing all dirty gangsta', gyrating around, and Edward is playing along on his guitar with the music, whatever comes out of Mom's Ipad on the dock.

I know what Edward's doing. He went for that guitar so he could hide behind it. It's pretty brilliant. They've tried to talk him out of it, but he just smiles and does the troubadour bit. Tanya's had her tits near him several times. Sitting too close, dancing in front of him, shaking her six inches of boob crack practically in his face.

It's pretty funny. But I remember he is older and maybe it's not so funny. Maybe that guitar is hiding his chunky. His chunky junk.

I hold my glass to my lips to hide my smile. His hand was better, Edward's hand over my mouth. Not his hand on his junk like Jake's is now. Billy rebukes him. First thing he's said all night. I'm laughing out loud this time. I don't know why.

Mom mistakenly thinks I'm laughing at how she's nearly grinding on Jacob, young enough to be her son, and pretty much her son in terms of being a mother figure. It's adorable that she's poking her trunk at his junk…well I'm laughing again. I'm my own party.

Horny Alice turns from Jacob to Jasper who seems happy enough to dance on his own, in the proximity of Alice's behind. Who knew my boss liked to get down? Alice embraces Jasper and there is not room for a sheet of paper between them, certainly not a binder. Those are stacked on a kitchen chair, by the way. Useless. All of it's on-line, and he knows that. He's probably cleaning out his office. But I know what this really is. Every now and then he makes me come in so he can reassure himself I'm not going to quit but since I wouldn't…come in…he came here. He must be really worried. Don't worry, Jasper, it's the traffic on the bridge just like I told you. Dork.

Like I'd quit. Labels are my life! But he's insecure. Which makes me think I probably need to ask for a raise. But he pays me well. It keeps me and Mom going. You think we could live on what Mom makes? She can't even live on what she makes. But I could live on what I make. But it doesn't make sense to think like that and I don't know why I just did.

The money I pull in from my garden goes to the no-kill shelter in town. So my garden goes to the dogs. I am laughing again, only this time Edward looks at me, and the whole Roman arena in my head shuts up, you can hear a pin drop in there, or a tree, and if there's no one to hear it did it really fall? That's what I'm thinking, but I'm also noticing how Edward's smile makes me very happy and I am smiling back. I touch my own lips just to be sure, and I am smiling just like I thought.

Mike comes in then, plops beside me. He stinks like weed. Tanya must get a whiff because she backhands him. "Not here," she yells.

"I went home," he yells back . Then he turns and smiles at me. He's a mess, Mike is. Not the tattoos, the piercings, but he's gotten them done to help himself get found. That's how he explains it. I've tried to listen. They are his road signs, he says.

"Let's cut a rug," he says to me because I laughed one time a hundred years ago when he said that and now…every time.

"I'll get the scissors," I say, yeah a hundred times on that too, but he laughs like it's the first.

I leave the hedonism behind and enter the kitchen. I get the plastic stuff out so I can start to divide the leftovers. When they see me do this they know I've reached saturation. But they have to see me, and often they don't, but one of them will eventually stumble in here and word will get out. It's my job to rescue them from themselves.

Mike doesn't follow me. I peek in there and he's getting it on with Alice and Tanya has moved on to Jasper, but I see Alice dart her little eyes that way. Mama knows all about other bitches stealing her man.

So it's back to the food and I get that cleaned up. Leah's kale chips didn't get hit very hard. They appreciate them at the market though. She'll make a batch and sell out quick there in the morning. But here, I keep them, snapping the lid on. I'm the one who likes them.

I hear Billy in the hall. He has his leg on tonight so he dressed up for us. He's standing there, the cane planted solid.

I keep working. He knows I'm going out. I pile the dirty dishes in the double bowled sink and wipe my hands. I get my flashlight off the charger and touch my back pocket making sure I have my cell. I go out back and Billy follows me. The steps are a little rickety but I'm not telling him nothing. He's slow, but he makes it okay. I walk careful and he keeps up behind me. We get to the curb out front and I go across the street and stand aside as he makes his way up his porch and he gets to his door.

"I'll send food with Jacob and make sure he brings the chair," I say.

He nods and goes in. I wait a few seconds and the light comes on. I shoot a last look at my house, alit and noise coming out the front door, and movement behind the sheer curtains. I move away into the dark.

But I'm not far and I hear them, steps behind me. "Bella?" he says. "Wait up."

And I'm two ways on it, surprised, and not. Like I said, he follows me easy. I don't know why.


	7. Chapter 7

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 7

He's behind me. When I turned he was looking at me, walking rapidly to keep up. "Hey baby, got a light?" he says in this gangster kind of voice.

I shine my flashlight in his face.

He puts his hand up, "Whoa, Bella," he's smiling, but he'll see stars for a while, not the real ones, not the ones on Mom's walls, but the kind I just gave him.

I click the light off. "Why are you doing this?" I ask.

"Can't I walk with you?"

I don't say, I'm walking again, slow. Nobody walks with me. Others have wanted to, but they always lack the dedication and I know that, and some things you don't give away. If you do, people think you wanted to, and maybe you didn't and now they think it's theirs but you still feel like it's yours, just yours…and now you let it go…as if you wanted to…like it was cheap, but it's not, it's the most important thing in the world, the most important thing you do, the most important thing you have, but if you give it, they take it, and then you have to bear it…bear that you gave it away.

"Why do you want to Edward?"

"Bella…I just want to walk with you." He is beside me, but not. He's one step back.

"Right this minute?"

He touches my arm and I gasp and stop and turn a little, my hand on my arm where he touched me like it's a wound, like I'm holding in my blood. No one touches me on this walk. Not ever.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" he asks.

I shake my head, but I keep holding that place.

"Are you upset? Hey, don't be mad. I just wanted…well you know the neighborhood. Maybe I need to see it, the way you do. Can you show me?"

I don't know. But he's said it the best way—that he wants to see it. "There's no talking," I say, but I'm torn.

He nods, puts imaginary tape over his lips. I nearly groan frustration and start to walk again and in a second he is right next to me, hands in his pockets but we both know I'm leading.

So we've cleared his house. He doesn't know how every night I made myself look at it, for signs of life. I didn't go too close, but halfway, shining my light over the front of it. Later, when I'd be back in my house, I'd shudder to think I was that brave, but I was. You've heard how true courage doesn't mean you aren't afraid to do something. It means you don't let the fear stop you. Well I don't let the fear stop me from shining my light on Freida's abandoned house. But now Edward lives there. Now he's moved in to the heart of the place and there's light on the inside.

So I want to tell him something, but we aren't talking now, and I don't know him enough. But he's moved so casually into her house. He doesn't know how inside my mouth has dropped way, way open and I am in awe of him.

Of course it would take an outsider to overlook the history the rest of us can never overlook. It would take fresh blood to build upon the old blood, someone ignorant of what went on before.

I trip. He grabs my arm, but I'm not going down. I rarely fall. But I trip…a lot.

So we have passed Freida's and now we pass the extra lot on the other side of Freida's and then we get to the rental house with the revolving door, the long line of renters. It's empty now, but it won't be for long. They come and go, come and go. I get closer to this place, make sure it's still empty. I circle it, all the way to the yard. My cat Muffins comes out from the back porch and scares me to death. "Get home," I say, and she stops and licks her paw and whines at me a little. I shoot the beam over the yard, then back around the front, all the while Edward follows, and back to the porch and I see the empty bottle. It's whiskey. Someone was drinking on the porch. It could be workmen, but it wasn't here last night. I take that bottle to keep it clean and so I can know if there are any more later. I'll be watching.

Next is Mike and Tanya's. Mike is still at my house, but many nights he's on the front porch smoking. We don't wave. He's already charged my fence and he knows I'll never open the gate. I don't date. And I don't like people as a rule, and I am giving what I'm giving and beside that I won't budge. I've known him all my life, since before his dad left, all the way back. He needs to cut the grass.

Two doors down is Merle and Pearlie's. I flash my light at the bedroom window, three clicks. I wait and count to five, and a light flashes back from same window, three clicks.

A car passes, and music pours out the windows, leaving a tail of sound that quickly dissipates and it's just our feet on the sidewalk then, it's just the cicadas.

A dog sets off barking. The Coopers still haven't taken their trash cans to the back. Next to them the Strands aren't home and papers gather on the lawn. That's almost a week. They didn't tell me they'd be gone. But they don't have to. They don't have the money for a vacation. Even though it's late, I walk up to their front door and knock. I put my ear against the wood and listen. There is nothing, no heartbeat I can hear in this place. Like every night before I walk around, trespassing, some might call it, but I have already struck a deal, they know I'm watching and it's quiet in back, the barbecue pit quiet, the shed in back still. On the front lawn I, we, gather the papers and pile them in a corner on the porch. Who gets the paper anymore? The morning paper? The Coopers.

I smell the dryer going in front of the house next door, windows open. This is Leah. She needs to get to bed, for market in the morning, but she's a night-owl. She dries her clothes at night to save on electric.

And that's how it is, all down the block, and then I cross the street, and I start at the corner, big screen visible through the picture window.

"You ever afraid?" he asks me. He's breaking my rule, but it holds on this side of the street too, and I don't answer him, just click my light once, not in his face, but on his chest.

"Okay," he laughs a little.

But I'm thinking about it, and already I see the distraction. I'm not paying attention. What I want to say is yes, yes I'm afraid sometimes. But not of the street. Crime out here…there's room to run.

It's what people do inside their houses, where they think no one sees, I fear that, living beside it and never knowing, watching TV while a neighbor fights for her life just a few hundred feet away. That's what I fear.

Next house, next house, until we're across the street from my house again, and the party has broken up, and Jacob is on the porch saying goodnight to Mom, but I look Billy's way, at the window closest to his chair and I see the light click, and my light answers.

And Jacob, he knows not to talk to me now, he knows, but his hands are in his pockets,his shirt unbuttoned all the way down, a cleaner white undershirt underneath. He sees me walking with Edward. He's worked all day and he's been drinking. He's always mad about something.

"I figured you snuck out to walk with her." He's talking to Edward.

I click my light in Jacob's face. He puts his hand up. "Cut it out."

I don't know when I put my hand on Edward's arm, but it's after I move around him, curb-side so I'm closest to Jake. Edward would have stopped walking if I didn't make it clear we had to keep moving.

"Go on," Jacob says to our backs.

We are. Going on. We are.

We find a kitten at the end of the street, a little yellow one. I don't know if it belongs to someone but it comes out of the bushes and tells us its troubles and I think of Dr. Suess and, Are You My Momma?

I pick it right up and carry it along. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Her," I say, breaking my rule.

"What are you going to do?"

I don't answer because I'll figure out if she belongs to someone and if not, I'll find a home, and if not, I'll take her to the no-kill in Ramsey.

"She's not mangy," I tell Edward once we reach my house again.

"She might belong to someone," he says.

I am holding her, looking at her, and he is scratching the back of her neck a little, and his finger are very long, and very close to me, my chest.

"Bella?"

I look up at him. I'm holding that little kitten. I'm glad I was there…to save this kitten. Or steal her from her owners…but just for a night.

"Thanks for letting me walk with you."

"You're staring at me," I say. I wish I wouldn't say things…sometimes.

He laughs a little, raises his brows, big smile and the words aren't coming but I see him searching.

I laugh a little too because…I don't know why.

"You can't do it again," I say. Crap.

"Do…walk with you?"

Now I'm staring. It took the most of his smile when I said that.

"I would like to," he said.

"I know," I groaned. I turned away and noticed Jasper's car was still here. Well I could still hear them in the house, see them even.

"Is that so bad? I won't talk. I promise."

"Why? You have better things…."

"See that's where you're wrong," he said, taking the kitten from me, his knuckles lightly brushing me. "What could I do that's better than rescuing kittens?"

I might be smiling now. He is so…so…. But I remember the important thing. But the hundred questions are in me, the hundred things I want to know.

"You…." I can't get it out, but I am starting to get the ideas. For one this is mine. For two if he goes he will mess it up. For three it's hard to pay attention when he's with me. I can't think. And I do this myself. I have to do it myself.

"I'll think about it," I say.

"You will? How long will you need?"

"Three days," I say, to give myself plenty of space.

"Why three days?"

"Because…I'll have to type it up and…three days, take it or leave it."

He laughs. "You drive a hard bargain Swan."

I'm not bargaining. He's trying to bargain. I reach for the cat but Edward turns so his shoulder blocks me. "She's okay. I'll let her spend the night." He smiles at me. I don't know why that hangs there between us. But I imagine a lot of things. But one thing I know about Edward now. He's the loneliest person I've ever met, lonelier than Eleanor Rigby and wearing a face that he keeps in a jar by the door.

But of course I don't say any of this. I just let him take the kitten.


	8. Chapter 8

Second update today so be sure and read 7. And thanks for such wonderful reviews. I am very grateful.

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 8

I say goodnight to the kitten, and then to Edward, like in the book Goodnight Moon, I sound so crazy saying two goodnights. I am a freak!

But I go in my house and I don't look back at him, then I do, just once, right before I go in the door I look back and he is walking away, head bent over the kitten. He is going into Freida's dark house. But at least he's not alone.

In my house it is like a sagging balloon, half the air let out but still some shape. Right away I see Billy's chair. I'll take it in the morning, and some of the food.

Mike and Tanya are gone. I already know she would have dropped Mike off on a corner somewhere, and she would already be at the Longbranch, like the kitten, looking for someone to take her and her long cleavage home.

I wonder how men do it, take responsibility for women…like that, their big breasts, their lady parts and eyes…eyes that say, 'celebrate me, please, please…please.'

I'd run screaming from that, but men go for it. At least once. Especially drunk ones. The alcohol has to help. But so much responsibility. So much room…to be wrong.

I could never just…want someone to take my life off my hands…just take it…so I wouldn't have to feel…my life.

Mama and her two hands, all the men she counted there, all the ones she didn't, let fall between her fingers deciding not to add them…because they didn't save her…they couldn't. They had to save themselves.

When I think about molecules and atoms and super novas , water, hydro-carbons, amino acids, God's Playdough, forming planets…and the long assembly line of life…me…I can't believe it's meaningless. I can't believe it's accidental. That's what I remember as I enter the kitchen. So it's hard to say hello when I've just ran along a milky way…in my mind…and remembered how lucky I am to be alive.

Edward.

Edward.

In my mind I'm saying his name. Lucky to be alive. Edward. Those things feel…tied.

In the kitchen, Jasper is there with Alice while she 'makes a plate,' to take home, or robs us blind of a week's worth of groceries. Jasper is having a cup of coffee. He is giving Alice a 'ride home.' She shoots, she scores.

Mom is smoking. I saw that right away, smelled it sooner even, but I'm just now getting to it. "Mom!" I nearly yell.

"What?" she says, "It's just one little smoke Bella, it's not going to kill me."

Jasper says something about the binders, like I don't know my job. Or his. Or anyone's in that business. Does he not know I'm under-achieving?

But Mom said Leah had called and I needed to handle the table tomorrow morning at the market.

I throw up my hands. I have this whole freaking kitchen to clean and now I have to do the market? All those people.

"Mom," I say, then I can't say all of it with my boss listening anyway. But doing the market is no small thing for me. It is already late and by the time I get to bed, and then I have to stop at Leah's and get everything that I'd already hauled over there earlier, and the tent and the table and I have to go to the ATM for change. I make a big growl and Jasper looks surprised because he's never heard me growl before and few people have.

I go upstairs and get ready for bed and throw my clothes around, then decide to pick them up, all of them up and put them in the hamper. I am back down and Mom is sitting at the table, looking at all the crap left that she won't clean up anyway.

"Jasper's nice," Mom says, smoothing her hand over the small part of the table that's clear right in front of her.

I start to gather dishes.

"When you get the food put away…," she says.

"I had it put away and your buddy pulled it all back out and left it out."

"Don't be that way Bella."

I slap the plastic-ware into the sink. I'm more careful with the breakables because I can't stand chips on the plates. I hate that—ruining what's already good.

"She takes and takes. She's a taker," I say because there are so many people at the market and Leah won't even come to help me.

"Don't say things like that," Mom says.

"She took my boss," I say. She took him home and not to share the leftovers. But yeah, talk about sharing leftovers, Alice Brandon—leftover!

I know the floor is going to open up and drop me into hell. I know I'm mean.

But Alice Brandon has no limits. First my mother…now my boss. Growl.

"Edward's nice," Mom says.

I breathe in and run water in the sink. He is very nice. And I'm lucky to be alive. He's got the kitten. Edward.

"I don't know why he left though. He forgot his guitar." She's quiet for a few seconds. "Maybe the Alfredo gave him diarrhea."

I look back, and she smiles a little, but she's sad, Alice leaving with Jasper, Edward running away.

"Don't say things like that," I mimic. But I end up laughing. With her.

She's my mom. What am I going to do? How many years did she fight for me? So I fight for her.

And that's when I remember. I'm rinsing the Gladware, and I know what it is, why, exactly why Edward can't walk with me.

I remember how protective I felt when Jacob crossed the street and had that bunchy look at Edward. I knew I would keep Edward safe, and I put my hand on Edward's arm and I moved around him, put myself between him and Jacob. And I kept us moving…him moving…from the danger.

But for just a second I knew, he wanted to move me out of the way, Edward did. He made a little move like he wanted to move me behind him so he could be closest to Jacob. Then he caught himself and he…surrendered to me. He let me lead.

But he'd wanted to protect me.

That's why he couldn't walk with me.

I had to be in front. I had to lead. I had to be first. I had to die first. I had to face it. And if he went with me, he'd take over. And eventually, before I even knew what I was doing, I would let him. It would feel too good. It would be too easy…maybe wonderful. And then it would happen…phase two…reality.

And it would be his…my walk. And I'd pull back…and back…and back.

I wouldn't be able to help. I would be like them…Leah and her darkness that took over, Mom and Alice looking to give their lives away and not finding any takers, Tanya ready to smother someone in her pillows...hold his face to her breast until he couldn't kick anymore, couldn't run. And Mike stuck in a purple haze, Jacob angry and sometimes cruel, Billy—morose. Merle and Pearlie, soft and sweet…just meat. I would be them…and I would fail them. I would fail.

I would fail.

And I couldn't let it happen, couldn't ever let it happen cause the only way I could feel safe was to make sure…to put myself there…my eyes on the path…to be scared…but to never give up, never hide, never run.

He can't help me with that. It was given to me.

I grab some cat-food and go out the door. Mom doesn't ask. She'll just go to bed. I hurry in the dark, in the night, I go around the fence and to the front of his house. Light spills onto the porch from the front room window. I get to the door and I don't stop. I want to, but I don't. I knock. He must be standing right on the other side cause the door jerks open and he is still holding the kitten and he says, "Bella?" like he can't believe it.

He looks up and down me. He's scowling. I'm in my pajamas, shorts and a tank top. I forgot, but it doesn't matter. I hold out the cat-food and he widens the door, and just like I thought- boxes. I'm not going in.

"I have to tell you something."

"Oh. Okay," he says, serious-faced, taking the food.

I take a big breath, almost forgetting what it was, but I don't, "Edward…I…don't need three days…to decide…you know…about you and me…walking." I'm huffing like I ran here. Well I almost did I guess.

He stares for about ten seconds. The kitten is calm on his arm.

I am already forgetting all the good reasons I had. They aren't making sense.

"Bella?"

"I…," I take in a shaky breath. There's so many things, "I have to run my booth…at the farmer's market in the morning…and I thought…if you're not doing anything I thought…since you like vegetables…."

"The Farmer's Market, right. Your mom told me about it…asked me to go with her…so…you'll come too? Or I guess you go earlier?"

The old picture of the atomic bomb going off someplace like Nevada…the mushroom cloud in the desert…kapow. That about sums it up right now.

"Don't tell her you walked with me." I don't know where that came from, but it is out there now.

"Okay. Is there a problem?"

"No. No. Just…go with her."

"But…do you need me to come early…help or something?"

"No," I say like he's out of his mind, then, "No!"

And I'm out of there. I am running now and he calls me but once I get going, I can't change direction. Heck no.


	9. Chapter 9

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 9

I get up at four in the morning. It's not human to be up before five and I…do not feel human.

I have so much to do. The kitchen is still a mess and I put more things away while I make a pot of coffee. I pour a cup and put some in my thermos, and leave the rest for Mom.

Outside I make too much noise. I load up the back of my truck and after about five trips I'm shutting the tail-gate and ready to head to Leah's. That's where the real fun begins.

"Bella?"

I nearly die. Really nearly scream.

"Edward," it's all I can say.

He looks a little swollen from sleep, hair crazy, a white t-shirt like always and the beige shorts and I think he slept in them, and an unlit cigarette in his mouth and his shoes in his hand.

"How's the kitten?"

"Good. She's good. Are you ready?"

"For…?"

"For the market. Do you need to load anything else?"

"You're going with Mom."

"We can text her. She can meet us there later. She'll want me to help you, don't you think?"

Mom never as in ever attends the farmer's market. She's slept with one of the artisans there, a crazy goat cheese maker and she never goes now. If she asked Edward it was to be with him. Even I know that.

"Can I go, Bella? Can I help? I'd like to see it." How can he do this…be so out with it…just simple things like…begging.

"Yes," I say. Yes. We will text Mom. I…am worried. I don't want her to stay home and be sad. I am worried. But he's here…and he needs…he needs to come with me. I can feel it. He needs the vegetables probably, and he needs to help me. He needs…to help. Me.

We are in the truck. I am trying not to look at him, but when I do, I push the brakes and we are thrown a little. "Billy's chair," I say. And the food. There's just too much.

"We'll text your mom," he says.

"Mom?" I repeat. Mom doesn't…she wouldn't….

So I pull out. Already it is all tangled up. I don't let things go. I don't let things go like this.

But I take a big breath and drive down to Leah's, and it is in the shed in back, all the food in boxes and coolers, and her pies on the porch, each in a covered box and he is going on about it in a loud whisper, "Are these as good as yours?" But it's too early to talk. He takes the biggest things, the heaviest, and I run to help and we wrestle some and he grunts, "Bella, I got it, I got it."

And I have to let go. So what do I do with Edward Cullen?

He is careful. Too careful sometimes. I'm faster. But he has good ideas. He puts the things in the truck's bed like puzzle pieces. Everything fits, but we're fifteen minutes late already. I don't know how to say it, but I say, "We have to go."

And we do. And we go to the ATM next and I park and run to the machine. I am wearing my white baseball cap and I turn it backwards. My hair is in a heavy braid against my back cause it was wild lion hair when I woke up. I wear a T-shirt and my jean shorts, the cut-off ones that embarrass me but I didn't expect him to show up at my elbow at four. Why was he up at all?

I get the money. It takes forever, but finally I have what I need and get in the truck and put my money belt on the seat. He is looking at me, smiling. He taps the bill on the back of my hat. He's waking up a little maybe, his eyes are opening wide.

It's still dark out, the sun way down deep and barely sending its first pale bleed into the dark.

"How old are you?" he asks me right out, his long arm on the back of the seat so his hand can touch the bill of my hat or my braid anytime.

"Twenty-seven," I say, pulling out of the bank. The market isn't far now, down by the tracks.

"Jacob and Mike…."

"They're neighbors," I say. Just so he knows. If I was going to…it wouldn't be them.

"My neighbors too," he says, but he's looking straight ahead now. We drive the rest of the way and get there and it's busy, the tents going up. It's a vegetable and fruit circus.

We are out of the truck, me to the left, him to the right. We meet at the tailgate. He starts that, "I got this."

He grabs the tent, I grab a table. He says, "Hold off I'll be right back."

I don't say anything. He doesn't have a clue where to set up. But then he does. He's standing on my spot. "Here?" he calls.

I give him a thumbs up and hoist the table. I'm very strong.

But I don't make it to the site before he's rushing to help me. And I have to admit, when someone even stronger than me lifts the burden...it's not bad. But it's not what I know…have known. We open the awning, he pulls on one leg, me another and we snap that thing in place and have a roof over our heads in no time. Then back and forth we go, laying out things.

I don't mean to be crabby with him, but we don't have much time and it's not easy to share…this…but he's a very quick learner and he likes sorting the tomatoes by color and it looks good, what he does, and I put the pies on the small table and I get the signs and he learns we sell produce and pies to benefit the no-kill shelter in town. I don't know what I could have said that would have gotten a bigger reaction from him. We'd raised over two thousand dollars this summer, ten over six summers.

"Bella Swan," he says, flipping the bill of my cap again, then yanking some on my braid. I readjust my cap and run my hand over the braid and smile at him. I can't not smile at him, disturbing as he is sometimes.

But I am quickly snapped out of it because the old people come first and we get busy very quickly. He asks and I tell him what to do. And I am busy too, and the two camping chairs I grabbed off of Leah's porch have not seen our butts, not in those first three hours.

"Bella you have to try this," he is saying to me. It's the guy's chicken on a stick. I think I've tried most of it already, but it's all new to him, so it's new to me as well. I am already getting stuffed. He's probably spent more than we've made, well no, not possible cause we are cleaning up, but he doesn't mind spending to have a good time. He's like a kid here. Like he's been let out of his cage or something, and landed here.

The music has started up. Oh, I should have brought his guitar. I text Mom again. This will force her to come. Bring Edward's guitar, I type. No please, just a command.

Then I realize, we're extra busy. We've got a following, but there are…lots of women here. Leah's pies are gone except for the blackberry one Edward set back and bought for a twenty. He was selling those. He was crying out, buy a pie for twenty, save a dog's life. Save Sparky. Redeem Rover. And he sold out.

I take a good look at him, all happy about what he's accomplished. He's been pretty innocuous. He's almost too…like no trouble. But here, I'm seeing more, watching him with people, listening. He's not like me, not shy at all. He talks to everyone.

"Don't tell them where you live," I say.

He has been asked his name a few times. He tells them, says he's new in town. I know someone will ask. He draws a lot of attention. He's been invited out for a drink more than once, invited to play at the VFW hall, invited to ride in a bicycle club. I've been here my whole life and I've never even been invited to church! Except by Mom.

He's really…very beautiful. There, I said it. He's…beautiful. I'm shy, and his beauty makes me more shy. But it's not just me, or Mom and Alice and Tanya. It's everyone.

Mom shows up, carrying Edward's guitar. It's out of the case, I hope he doesn't mind. He's surprised to see it, but he thanks her and strums and tunes it a little, and she stands there, in white jeans, her hands folded in front of her, eyes darting. Then he's out in front of our table and singing about a tomato growing girl and come buy her tomatoes and save Fido.

Mom and I are watching. By ten I have nothing. We are sold out.

Edward is doing a gig in the middle of the tables where various people come to play music. He's been surrounded, many deep, and if he wasn't so tall I wouldn't be able to see the top of his head. As it is, I can only see his hair. Then nothing when I plop into my chair because the market is practically closed now that he plays and draws customers.

He's doing this to collect more money. He sings How Much is That Doggy in the Window, then Zepplin's Black Dog and Eddie Brickell's Ghost of a Dog, and he is really, really good. Then he strums while he tells the story that Rocky Racoon was a famous dog. And he sings that and kids laugh.

He is a rock star and I know that is cliché, but Edward has talent.

He says, "The dog you save could be your own." He says, "Ask not what your dog-shelter can do for you, but what you can do for your dog-shelter."

People give us money. They want to give us money. We make over three hundred dollars, our biggest day ever.

Mom stays the whole time, filling one of the chairs. She's enjoying this and I realize I over-reacted when Edward said he was coming here with Mom, I got mixed up. But now we're fine, we're all fine and Mom is smiling when Edward says, "To market to market to help a great dog, home again home again, jiggety-jog." He just keeps going. By twelve-thirty we are on our way home. Mom has asked Edward if he wants to ride with her, and he says sure, but they have to follow me so he can help me unload. I want him to go with me to drop off the money at the shelter. I say, do you guys want to follow me and see the shelter? Not Mom, she's seen it, but Edward hasn't.

So they do that and Barb is there cleaning pens, and it's crowded in there and everybody has something to say, and Edward and I walk through while Mom talks to Barb, and I show Edward the three black lab brothers that are my favorite. They're still young and gangly, and he almost tells me something, about a dog he had, but then he doesn't want to tell it, and I know how that is.

I give him the money to give to Barb, or I try to, but he insists I do it, and he gives another hundred of his own money, just insists, and we fight some, but he wins. And I give this to Barb and she's so happy. She gushes some, and it is our best day and Mom tells Barb how Edward put on a show and I leave them then and go off by myself and the dogs are going crazy, but when the new pens are built they can be thinned out better, they can live large.

Edward has wandered off too and he's at a pen, a girl, Golden Retriever, and of course he's probably in love already. I tell him we can come anytime and walk some of these guys. He is all over that.

But we leave and we're all in love with a few of the dogs apiece cause it's such a heart-quake to go in there.

He wants to know everything about the place and I'm answering his questions and Mom says Edward should go with me so we can get moving, and so he goes with me and tells me how much he liked the market and let's do it again, what's the schedule. I tell him it's two days a week. It's great in the fall. We sell pumpkins then, a patch we grow on Leahs' family's farm by their pond. They grow like crazy there because they have all the water. Also great fishing if inclined and he tells me he hasn't gone since he was a kid and I better watch it telling him about all this stuff, he might want to be with me every minute of every day.

I don't know what the heck to say to that. I am very quiet because that would be too much. I have a job!

"Bella?" he says. "I'm kidding."

"I know," I lie, and I say it in this insecure voice that practically squeaks. But he got me there for a minute.

When we get to Leah's we have the truck unloaded in no time. She doesn't come out and ask how we did. She will, in a couple of days and she'll be so, so happy when she hears three hundred and twenty plus Edward's hundred! I put the pie crates on the table and I know she'll fill some of them for Wednesday morning.

Mom is back home and I pull the truck in front cause she hates when I block her in. I have to take the chair to Billy and unload my stuff. I have to fix a plate. "You can eat with us," I say.

"I think I'm stuffed, but I have a pie. Your Mom says you'll come over with her to look at my rooms. She says you're a decorating team."

"We are not," I stammer. Does anyone know how much I have to do?

"She's also invited me to church in the morning," he says. "I haven't been to church…."

I'm really thrown. She's ahead of me, Mom. Maybe I'd like to ask Edward to do things, but now I don't have a choice. I'm so tired. I need to be alone, that's for sure.

He helps me unload then he says do I want him to take Billy's chair and I say maybe Mom did, I'll take it later. Then he says he'll see me later and I'm standing there like a goof because Mom…and he pulls on my braid and as he walks away he's singing about a girl who is a dog-walking girl, and one thing, I'm giving him lots of verses.


	10. Chapter 10

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 10

I wheel Billy's chair over, get it on the porch. He's in there. Jake's a long time at work already. Then I run home and get his food, take that back over. I can't help but feel Edward's eyes on me. It's purely imagination on my part cause I know he's not on the porch.

It's funny how I have to remember not to stare at Freida's house now. My habit all these years is looking there, always looking at it. And now I have to remind myself not to so Edward doesn't catch me gawking at the place.

I still have to pick my garden. I don't know where Mom is, probably shopping or over with Alice hearing all the details about my boss.

I grab my baskets off the porch. I pretty well stripped my green beans, and that's the most time consuming, but I'll have to cut okra cause that's ready every day. I'm going to make a big pot of vegetable soup, that I do know.

So I'm in my garden and there he is at the fence giving me a heart attack like usual. "Bella?"

I look at him and he's holding a towel. "My kitten is sick."

I'm kneeling by the eggplant, holding my knife cause if you've ever tried to snap an eggplant off the plant, good luck. So I stand slow, then put my knife in the basket and dust my hands on my shorts. When I get close I can see the poor little animal is struggling for breath.

I dig for my phone and I'm already walking to the truck while I search through the numbers for the vet. I let them know we're on our way.

We lose the kitten there, but at least they put an end to her suffering. They don't really know why she died, there's three things, possibilities and they are telling us these, and Edward is standing there stroking the little thing with the back of his finger.

Edward gives the kitten a last pat and leaves it there on the table and we go out. He has the towel in his hand, which he shoves in the trashcan by the front desk before he pays.

We go outside, pretty quiet and get in the truck.

"I read how we put our emotions on animals," I say. "I mean, that's why it hits us so hard." It doesn't make sense. Of course we put our emotions on animals, it's called love. I meant, we're softer with our animals. I don't know what I meant.

He laughs a little, even though he's…morose. He reaches and pulls on my braid again.

"You could get that dog," I say, and I don't mean to, it was a flashing passing thought and it got out cause I'm always pimping those dogs.

He puts the braid pulling hand over his mouth for a minute and looks out the window.

After a few seconds he says, "Is there a park around here?" He speaks so softly I'm not sure he said it.

So I just start the truck.

"Bella, is there a park around here?"

"Yes." I back out.

"Can we go there?"

I side-eye him. I hope he's not going to lose it cause I still have that okra and good vegetable soup takes an hour.

"Yes."

So he's flipping my braid around kind of slow, and I have to remember not to run off the road. The park is about five miles, on the other side of town. It's where they shoot the fireworks. It borders the lake and it's very pretty there.

"You know what I'd like to do?" he says when I turn the truck off and we're sitting there in the parking lot, the pavilion in front of us with a few picnic tables, and the water beyond that and then the big backdrop of trees, one of which is starting to change into yellow.

I'm afraid to say anything else. I hope he isn't planning to drown himself.

"Let's you and me take a nap, right here. You got a blanket in here?"

"A smelly one behind the seat," I say, not that we'll be using it anytime soon cause this sounds fishy.

He laughs. "I'd like to put that smelly blanket by the water and lay there while you tell me everything you can think of about yourself. I think I could drift off like that. Could you?"

My life story would put anyone to sleep. But not really.

All I can think about is the okra, but I don't really care about the okra, but it's all I can afford to think about right now.

He smiles but his eyes are so sad. "How about it?"

"I…," I can't look at him so I stare out the windshield. Me telling my story is making me more nervous than lying on the blanket.

"I don't know. I'm not telling my story."

"C'mon," he says, and he's already getting out then trying to lean the seat forward and like a duffle-pud I lean in to the steering wheel and let him yank that blanket out.

He's already got it under his arm and he's walking toward the water, looking back at me every now and then and nodding for me to follow.

Crap. I get out and slam the door and shove my hands in my pockets and walk after.

At the water he spreads the blanket and sits heavily and pats beside him for me to sit also. He's untying his shoes. I'm keeping mine on. I sit.

There we are side by side. We look at the water in silence. It's so beautiful I'm kind of proud for him to see it, where he lives, where I do.

After a while he lays back with a big sigh, his hands pillow his head. I think, here goes, and I do the same, hands on my stomach though. The clouds are beautiful too, and he asks what I see and I can clearly see Homer Simpson, but he just can't catch it, but he's laughing at least.

Then he starts it. "You've lived here all your life…."

"Yes."

"Went to kindergarten here…."

"Unit Two, all the way."

"Graduated eighth grade."

"No. I mean yes. But homeschooled."

He looks at me. "You're kidding."

I look at him. My God, close like this, lying like this. I look back at Homer.

"I didn't know you smoked," I say.

"I don't. Officially. But unofficially…yes."

"That sounds like Mom."

"Speaking of Renee…I can't see her homeschooling."

I laugh. "Merle schooled me." I look at Edward to get his reaction.

"What?" he lifts his head a little.

"Sleepy yet?"

He laughs some more. "You're waking me up."

"He's a retired teacher…even back then. She hired Merle, but he wouldn't take pay. He said it was too much fun. He's such a sweet liar. I started with public school curriculum, then in time I did my work on computer programs and he over-saw. Renee just told off the school system and made the big dramatic announcement she was taking her kid out…at the schoolboard meeting with the newspaper guy there of course."

"That's fantastic," he said. "I'm impressed."

We stare at each other for a minute. I don't know why we are smiling.

"High school?" he says.

"Merle."

"No way."

"Yes way."

"College?"

"State college over in Carterville and as many on-line classes as possible. I learn best that way." I bat my lashes.

"Damn."

"You?"

He looks away. "Um college, yeah. Didn't learn a thing."

"What did you go for?"

"Oh…psychology then political science. Useless."

"Too bad. I was business and marketing."

"Not Agronomy?"

"Hardly. Might have been interesting though." My God I was making smalltalk. Two big white gulls flew overhead.

"Fantastic," he says. Then, "Favorite movie."

"Not possible to name. The Unforgiven, Burt Lancaster. Coming Home, Jane Fonda."

"Commie," he says.

"I know. Um…I love Baghdad Café."

"Never heard of it."

"No one has. And Smoke Signals. To Kill a Mockingbird changed my life."

"Of course," he said.

"There's this one about four brothers killed in World War II."

"You realize this isn't a common list for a girl your age."

"I'm not a girl my age. Or common. I'm not common."

He lifts up on his elbow. I swallow all crackily.

"You, Bella Swan, are anything but common," he says, and he has his cheek scrunched on his shoulder, and a smile that reaches the sadness in his eyes even if it doesn't obliterate it. I have to look away.

He lies back down. I put my arm over my eyes so he'll know I am done talking.

"Tell me about Freida's…murder," he says.

"You know you've Googled it," I say back. I'm mad he just leapt there.

"I haven't." He's on his elbow again. "Bella I haven't."

I lick my lips like I taste the words that I won't speak.

He taps my nose, and it's barely visible because I haven't taken down my arm.

"A week ago I didn't know you," I say.

A crow calls and I imagine it gliding over the water.

"I don't know how I stood it…not knowing you." Then he lies back down, and I can breathe.

We do sleep. Until some picnickers come, he sleeps and I go into that state that is almost sleeping but you can still hear…like twilight. And the whole time I feel him beside me…in my bed at night many times I've tried to imagine sharing that space with a lover. I am so deeply practicing this feeling of someone…it just seems impossible…yet here I am…I can feel him, the weight of him, the mass of him, so close.

The sound of people talking wakens me, and I look and see Edward is not disturbed. I can look at him for just a minute, and I do, his face turned toward me, his body rolled my way, and he is not touching me, but we are close. Why? Why does he seek me out? He said he wanted to be with me all the time. He said he was joking.

He is beautiful, too thin, the bones in his face so visible, his cheeks go in, his jaw is prominent his brows and lashes are so heavy, and I know when he's awake his eyes, so framed are even more expressive.

Then those same eyes open, and there I am looking, and as soon as he sees me I'm just stuck, and what's funny is I don't look into eyes without concentration, determination. It just feels so…personal. But with him, I can't not look.

"Edward…are we friends?" I want to groan, but I control it. Is this the dumbest question?

He smiles, rolls his face into the arm that cushions his head, then quickly rolls back and smiles at me. "Bella, could I sleep this close to you without a weapon if we weren't friends?"


	11. Chapter 11

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 11

"I've seen Edward enough today," I say, already in my beater and knit shorts cause I'm working my ass off on the computer then going to bed.

Mom is holding a pan of my vegetable soup she's taking to Edward. "I need you to run my ideas past."

Like I'm going to hang out at Freida's and discuss paint chips? Um no. I'm not going to force myself on Edward yet again. And I have Edward saturation. That means I have to let this go through the strainer. I'm on overflow. Add the inside of Freida's house to that and I'm psychotic.

We've been together…constantly, and if I show up over there…it's embarrassing. And I can't take anymore. I can't even look at him right now I'm so…so…so…ready to pop.

His words, his skin, his jaw, his lips, his earlobes, his sideburns, his stubble, his teeth, his eye lashes, his nostrils, his smell and the skin scrunched on his cheek, and the way his tongue helps him form words…my name…that look in his eyes, unspoken something…and back to those words. It's coming at me like rapd fire clips in a Technicolor movie, soundbites too. Crap!

I have to work. And there's still patrol! And church in the morning.

"No, Mom. It's n…o." I take my bowl of soup, my third and two bottles of water and my dishtowel in case I spill and laptop under my arm I go out of the kitchen. My hair is all over the place, wet from my shower even though I prefer baths, and I'm tired and sun-burnt, and cranky and hungry and overwhelmed and…not myself.

All I can think about is Edward Cullen. He is holding my brain hostage. How am I going to live with those words in my head, those feelings lying beside him got going in me. I am preoccupied. So much so I trip on the stairs and my soup slops onto my shirt. "Fuck me," I say, and Mom hears it and yells, "Bella."

Oh, pot meet kettle, but she still has to do it, be my own personal Pharisee.

"Mother-fuck I mean," I yell.

"Bella Marie," she yells back, as she goes out the door cause I hear it slap behind her.

I am so glad for her right now, standing in the path between me and Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen. I say it three more times.

Edward.

Edward Cullen.

Cullen.

I shake my head and enter my room and put all my stuff down, glad I didn't get soup on my laptop. "Thank you God," I say aloud. And I go to my dresser and root for another beater and more bottoms, long ones this time so I can walk outside in them without looking like a ho on the prowl.

I get busy but it's nearly impossible, so I keep checking the gossip sites, telling myself I'll ease into it, my work, I will, just a little diversion to get my mind settled…but all I see are couples, breaking up, getting together, dating openly, dating secretly, couples…and I think of how he stroked that kitten, fingers long and lean, on the guitar, touching my hair, and the way he threw that towel away, that look, the park, what he wanted, the blanket under his arm, the words he said, and even I know there were words he didn't say, cause I have those, books and books of those, and he laid back, and I laid back, I followed easy…so easy.

And the pale underside of his arm as he stacked his hands under his head, beckoning me to lay my head just there, and what would it feel like, the relief, soft skin, muscle beneath…strength…and words when he lifted his head, my name…and what he said as he leaned toward me…he was a man, he wasn't Jake or Mike, so obvious and hard to respect, he was nothing like them, he was a man, deep as the lake, and it meant something when Edward Cullen put his face by mine, his body by mine, it did more, much more…than make me furious. It made me see…I'm a woman. Just like anybody, wanting the same things, pulled by the same chance. I could be his.

Seeing as I am not going to get much done I finish my soup and shove my feet in my shoes, and my hair into this big bulging knot on my head and put on my cap and go downstairs and take my flashlight off the charger, and check that I have my phone, find my hoodie, even though it's warm, and I stick my phone in the pocket.

I go out the front door and right away I hear Edward playing the guitar. And Mom is laughing. It makes me smile, but not really, cause I don't trust Mom to behave, to keep her mouth shut about me, but at least I know Edward can handle himself, I know that now.

The lights are on at Freida's, every light, and I haven't seen it that lit up, cause Freida was frugal, but on Halloween, she'd light it up like it was now, upstairs and down. Back in the day Freida made every kid do a trick to get their candy. None of that, "I don't have a trick," crap. God I practically lived there, slept there more than my own home. What would I have done without her?

I didn't want to think about it. I wasn't running from it, but I didn't want to dwell on it either. I hoped I could turn a page on it. I thought I had, but then Edward came, and now we are going to what, pick out wallpaper? I'm not exactly ready for that.

Jake is home. Car in the driveway, him coming out of the house carrying a bottle, crossing over to me. I hit him with the beam, but it doesn't stop him, and he knows, for years, you don't challenge the death ray.

He's taught me the meaning of jealousy, me and Billy walking the street, him not allowed. That's how I recognize it in myself, the jealousy, even now, jealous when Alice takes Mom away, jealous now knowing Mom is with Edward and I'm not. Jealousy is the hardest thing to admit, the worst, cause once you get there you can kill.

So here Jacob is, and he'd taught me the meaning, and he stalks through the death ray like it is light from a flashlight.

I keep walking. Just because someone breaks the rules doesn't mean I have to acknowledge him. But of course, he will be acknowledged.

He's walking with me.

"Try to ignore me, Bella. Just try."

I'm not trying—I'm doing.

I am checking out the rental. No more bottles on the porch. I walk around back and he is close behind me, and I realize that bottle I'd found last night was probably from him.

"You let him walk with you?" he says.

I smell alcohol from three feet away.

Oh, I let Edward break the rules so now there are no rules. I go about my check until he grabs me. I pull away then. "Get away from me."

"Don't give me that," he steps closer, grabs me again. I hit him with my flashlight.

He grabs his arm. I'd hit him hard.

"You tell him…what a mind-fuck you are? What a freak? You better tell him Bella. He might not be as patient…as stupid as I've been."

I'm holding the flashlight. Next time he's getting it under the chin.

"You want to give it away, Bella, finally, you only have to look as far as me. I haven't been shy about it. You think I'm gonna stand by and let him move in," he gestures below my waist, "all the way in while I diddle myself?"

I plow into him, flashlight in the chest, he staggers back laughing mean and he catches himself.

"Stay away from him and stay away from me," I yell.

"God," he falls butt first against the house, closes his eyes and lets his body sag. "This is such bullshit."

Since I don't ask for more he goes on, "This whole thing…so fucked up. We should have gotten the hell out of here years ago."

I don't want to hear this.

"Go if it's so bad," I say.

"Fuck you Bella. Don't tell me to go. You'd love that. Then you can finally have him. Well you can. I'm dumping him on you. I've had my stint. I signed up for the army."

I stare. "You did not."

"I'm leaving. November first. You can come over in the morning and make sure he's still breathing, you can give him lectures about taking a shower now and then. Fuck yeah you can empty his pee jars and haul his ass to the doctor's and make sure he's got his pills. You can get in his groceries and make him pay his bills and do his laundry. Know anything about wound care? Yeah, I'm passing the baton."

We look at each other. I can never look for long, not at him.

"You said you wouldn't." I asked him not to sign up. I begged him.

"Yeah, well…you don't have any right to ask me for anything. Else."

"Jacob!" Standing there, leaning heavily on his cane in the dark beside the empty house. Billy.

It throws Jacob but he hardens his face again. This is a big effort. "Go home Pop," he says, his eyes straight ahead as he takes another drink from the flat bottle.

"I called Juney." Juney is our sheriff. "You need to get home before I have you arrested."

"For what?"

"Leave Bella alone. Go home."

"Oh…your girl. Let's not take chances with the princess." Jacob moves sullenly off the wall. "I'm just your son. Throw his ass in jail…right Pop?" He's even with his father, staring him down as he moves around Billy. Then he goes across the street but not to the house. He throws the bottle against the street, lets it shatter.

Then he gets in his car and backs out. Billy makes it to the front yard and calls to him, but Jacob isn't listening. He roars off.

Billy stands there a minute looking after Jacob's departure. I don't know what he must have done to get here so quickly. I wonder if his leg is strapped on properly. So I go to him, don't touch him, he wouldn't want me to take his arm, but I'm waiting for him to move so I can see him across the street.

We do that, go slow across the street, careful to stay clear of the glass. Juney comes and asks if we've seen anything, and Billy says no. He goes down the street slow, shining his light where mine will be shortly.

"Bella…I'll talk to him."

"Did he tell you? November first?"

Billy nods. "It's time."

We both know that doesn't excuse it. He's driving drunk. "We should have told Juney to pull him over."

"He needs to go. It's time for a change. For you, too. You've got no business out here, in the dark."

I look at him. He can't say this to me. Not him.

"You see how defenseless you are if someone…?"

"You know I have to," I whisper.

"You're going to be hurt." He turns away. He's angry. I watch him work his aging body up the stairs. I watch him open the door, and before he goes in he turns to say, "Go home."

When we patrolled together, back in the day, we walked opposite sides of the street, talking with our lights, if at all. Now he's made a speech. I walk away and let the darkness swallow me.

How can he say this to me? He's the one that invented patrol. He's the one that taught me. First from his chair, wheeled down the street. He held the light and I held a light and he'd wait while I took my light and checked everything. "All clear," I used to say, my voice low-pitched even then. Then we made up signs. I'd arc my light. That meant all clear.

Then his leg began to heal, and he used crutches and he went through the surgeries, then therapies.

This lasted for years. But Diabetes got him and the leg had to come off.

He said it wouldn't stop him. For a while he was in the chair, in the street again, but it was a different street and no one cared about a crazy guy, an old man.

He tried to tell me it was over. We didn't need to walk it anymore. So I told him it was okay. I would do it alone. By then, I had to do it. It was my life.

But now…he tells me to go home. He says I could be hurt. He used to tell me I wouldn't be hurt. He said I could use my faculties, just like I had that night…I could think…I could use my light…I could use my mace…I could scream and yell…I could kick in the place…do the things he taught me. He used to say I was strong. I had to be strong. Nobody's victim. No one could stop me.

And I got better, stronger. I got well.

But now…it's his son, his own son who breaks the rules. And he straps on his leg and makes his shaky way over to save me. Did I need him to? No.

It's like he took his blessing away and prophesized I'd be hurt. A car goes past too fast and someone yells, "Hey Baby." And they laugh and speed down the street. And I'm standing there with my heart hammering…. What am I doing?

What am I doing?

I'm back at my house. I am looking over at Freida's, at Mom on the porch talking to Edward. He's seen me and waved. Mom turns and sees me standing on the sidewalk but she's mid-sentence and she turns and keeps talking to Edward.

What am I doing…with my life? How did I stand here…in the stream…for so long…the current cold and strong against my legs…how did I take my stand here, dig my feet into the rocks and stand here…while everyone else floated past…except the ones like me…who were stuck?

What am I protecting…them…or myself?

I run up the sidewalk, the porch and in to the house. I don't put my flashlight on the charger. I hurry in to my room. I can' breathe. I go to the widow, fumble to unlock it, to raise it. I drop to my knees, chin on the sill, and I pull off my cap, rip the band out of my hair, my eyes are closed and I'm trying to breathe and I think of the kitten who died. It couldn't breathe. Not even Edward could save it.

I hold onto the sill, dig my nails into the layers of paint on the wood. Breathe slow, breathe slow, let your belly fill, I am thinking. I am breathing.

I hear Mom come home, hear the door shut against the night. Morning will come, it's just a matter of time, morning will come and the lines and shapes will draw themselves sharply again and everything imagined in the dark will go away, just go away…that night when he had me by the shoulder, fingers digging so hard, me walking fast to keep up, so he could take me back to my mother. And Billy came then, across the street, his gun and his cries to his partner Charlie…Charlie…who yelled back, the sound of those words, even now, the highs and lows and strain and wild in their words.

I sleep on the floor in front of my window. Mom calls up the stairs and it is morning. I ask myself what morning and I answer, Sunday morning genius.

I roll onto my back and I hurt and I stretch. It feels so good, but I feel heavy as lead when it's over.

She'll want me to go to church. She goes. Freida started it, then she's continues, Pastor Aro helping her along, through her recovery, through the tragedy, and now from habit, she goes.

I can't imagine why, but she says church is for everybody and it's not her fault if folks don't know it.

So we do this. And she's invited Edward. I remember that and I groan.

I trip around my room to get ready. I pull a dress out of my closet, like the cutest dress in the world. I'd forgotten about it. I haven't worn it in a while cause it's a little embarrassing how much I like it. I check my legs, run my hands up the stubble. This is what I hate about hair removal…the commitment.

So I stumble into the bathroom and add shaving to my limited routine.

By the time I'm downstairs she's there. She's ready, on top of it, she's humming. She's wiping down the counter. "You ready?" she says.

I am ready. I don't ask if or when we are meeting Edward cause he's standing outside, by Mom's car, waiting, dark pants and a white, white shirt. They had some kind of a bet, him and her, and she owes him dinner now because he's there on time and he's laughing too.

"Morning sunshine," he says to me, and before I'm in the front passenger's side he pulls on my pony tail, and his knuckles graze the bare skin on my back cause there's a small cut out on the back of my dress.

We get in the car and Mom is telling me Edward's going to paint his kitchen yellow, and Edward pretends to cough and says, "Not a chance."

And Mom screams, my ears ring, and they laugh. And I spy Jacob's car still gone, but he doesn't always come home.

So I'm quiet on the way to church. I'm tired. I need some sleep, and maybe I'll get a nap today when pigs fly and the stars fall from the sky.

At church Edward is trying to go for my door, and I pretend not to see, and I walk first, then Mom, then he's behind, but he gets ahead as we near the doors and he opens one and smiles at me, and I go in, and the three of us are looking in the doors that open onto the middle aisle and Mom knows the rules, my rules, as close to the back as we can get, never higher than three rows from the back or we go into the side wing to sit in obscurity. Period.

The usher comes and Mom goes first and I feel Edward's light touch on the small of my back and lo and behold we are taken clear to the middle and Mom goes boldly into the pew as people scoot to make room and I hold back, and Edward goes around me and says, "Come on, Bella," and he takes my hand even and in we go, but now he's in-between me and Mom and that puts me on the aisle at least so I can get out quick if I need to.

Lordie it's a tight fit and I fold my arms, but he's right up against me and there's no where to go. He nudges me, makes me look at him, and I do, briefly, but it's like his image is stamped in my head forever he's so…Edward.

The guy has us stand, and I want to say, just leave us alone, but here we go, and Edward offers me his elbow and I go ahead and take it and we stand and he grasps my hand beneath his arm, and wiggles my hand some and the guy says to greet one another, and the whole time he's saying to me, "Are you sad today Bella?"

"No."

"You're very serious."

I'm in church. We're about to be yelled at for something. How happy should I be, Edward?

But the guy starts talking and tells us to sit again, and Edward and I have a hip crash. And once smooshed in I lean forward and look around Edward and hiss at Mom, "Can't you move?"

She ignores me because my voice has no impact on the woman, not ever. So the singing starts, and his arms are folded because there's not room for him to relax, but the fingers nearest are tap-dancing on my arm. I am trying to ignore him the way Mom does me, but I'm only thinking of everything of his touching everything of mine, and then the added effort of the fingers, playing my arm like the guitar.

He's playing along with the singing, that's all. He's enjoying the music. I'm barely aware there is music, because there's no sensory perception left in me for things like music and light or stained glass or anything beyond the fact he's touching me.

The preacher is finally up there, though I'm barely aware. He says, "It's not good for man to be alone."

Edward takes one of the mission envelopes from the slot in the pew. I notice how his thighs are so much longer than mine. He takes the little pencil and writes on the envelope, "Amen!"

Mom is smiling, I see that. Then Edward and I play Hangman. He wins.

Then he folds our paper and puts it in his shirt pocket and tells me to pay attention. I scowl a little. I listen to the preacher expound, but I'm wondering why God seems to have forgotten me. We've come here pretty regularly. Pastor Aro rushed right in to our difficulties and saved Mama. And he's tried his best with me to. I even got baptized years back to cover all my bases.

But God, I don't mess with him much. I figure He's going to do what He's going to do. It doesn't mean I can rest on my ass (which is a bible word). But according to Billy I can. I should just give up? Just let us all be sitting ducks?

"What?" I say to Edward, but it's not a what. He takes my hand. It's hold hands and pray time. I'm so glad I'm on the aisle because I do not hold hands. But I am holding Edward's. Or he's holding mine. I am looking at my hand in his hand. He holds Mom's hand too. He rests our hands on his legs…while he clings to us.

Pastor Aro is doing the voice, the come to Jesus voice. It's very pleading. Right now he's talking about being burdened, being troubled. He's talking to the weary, the heavy ladened. Edward's head is bowed, and he's staring at his knees. He's squeezing my hand so hard my fingertips are white. But I won't say anything. It feels…like he needs it.

Finally it's over. His grip eases and his head lifts, and he tells me he's sorry, and Mom too. Mom pats his knee, but I take my hand and fold my arms and work my fingers a little so he can't see. I guess I'd been staring at him. He looks at me, his eyes are glassy. He licks his lips. He nudges me with his shoulder and smiles a little. I can't smile back because he's hurt and I'm the worst comforter God ever created.

Edward doesn't get out of there without meeting Pastor Aro. Now the guy will visit, but I don't tell Edward. Mom also tells Aro that Edward moved into Freida's house. Aro has a 'no shit' look, but we leave him pretty much with his vestments…and chin…flapping in the wind.

We have to hurry to the restaurant to get our chicken dinner. The longer you wait, the more it fills.

"Fried chicken, mashed potatoes with white or brown gravy and green beans," Mom is telling Edward.

"That sounds fantastic," he says, very willing to go. He yanks a little on my ponytail and he takes it over the seat and keeps holding on to it.


	12. Chapter 12

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 12

Chicken Part 1

The restaurant is packed. I hate that, but the food is nearly worth it. Usually I make Mom put our name in while I wait in her car and she calls me on my cell when we get a table. Usually Horny meets us here. Horny doesn't do church, but she is all about the fried chicken. For her it's breakfast, great hangover food, she says. And then I have to hear it while they swap Saturday night stories, Saturday all night stories. Unless they were together, and sometimes it goes like that, then they talk in code, crackable code, but I try to imagine black holes in the center of galaxies spitting out a lot to swallow a little…or something.

But here's how to get your money out of Match, hook up with a dude and get him to bring a friend for your friend. A two-fer. Mom and Alice love a man-bargain.

But today, I can't hide out in the car, so I walk into the hub-bub with Mom and Edward. "I'm getting this," he tells Mom, meaning he's wants to pay.

"Alright," Mom says to my mortification, as she opens her mouth and puts thumb and forefinger at the corners of her lips to blot her lipstick.

"I'm getting mine," I say.

"No you're not," Edward says the way you'd speak to a petulant child. "We'll have a throw-down right here in front of all these church folks, Swan," he warns me.

"I'm not afraid of you," I say, and I might have been flirting. Me. But I mean it.

He pulls my tail again, while Mom is at the little desk giving the lady our name. "End of discussion Miss Bella. And you didn't come over with your mom last night," he says.

Well, I hadn't.

"I saw you walking."

Well, I had.

But he didn't see me walking, he saw me standing, in front of my house like a creeper because of Jacob running off to the army and deserting Billy, and what Billy said to me making me question my whole life. But I could never say all of that in a million years.

"So now you look at me with those big beautiful eyes so full of things you never say," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and going up on his toes, back on his heels.

Oh God, I make that sound in my neck, and I quickly clear my throat. But I want a repeat…of his words, not my sound…God no not that.

Big beautiful eyes. "Big Bad Wolf," I say. But I mean, it's what Red Riding Hood said to the…wolf…'what beautiful eyes you have,' but Edward is not Red Riding Hood and I'm not the wolf so…crap!

He laughs some, and he flushes a little red, and I know I'm red because I'm an embarrassment to myself…Gloria Steinem…and the whole human race.

"Fifteen minutes," Mom says having put our name in the hat, "not bad. Hold my place guys, while I go tinkle."

She did not say tinkle. "She said twinkle," I say, smiling at Edward, cause we're not middle schoolers, or pre-schoolers, or nursing home residents.

Edward has his lips pressed tight, and he laughs again, like he's trying not to. "Renee's great," he says.

And that's so…nice. Why can't I say nice, easy things like that? I rub my beautiful eye, so glad I didn't wear the mascara I might possibly not need anyway…unless he was teasing. Was he teasing…about my eyes?

I can see three women standing behind Edward, talking about him. He doesn't know it, but he is causing quite a stir now that they don't have Jesus to take their minds off of him. He is fresh…beautiful, to steal his word, beautiful meat in a man-meat desert cause anyone single and male around here has been torn to shreds already and left to jerkify in the hot sun in this barren practically single-man-free land.

And let's face it, the eyes in this place have not seen the wonder that is Edward Cullen, not anytime, not anyplace. He is Neo in the Matrix, Harry at Hogwarts, Frodo at Mordor, we all seem to know he's the one, chosen, the ring-bearer…and damned good looking…ridiculously fortunate in that department.

"Bella?" Edward touches my arm. He's been saying my name.

They have our table ready. Edward is worried Renee won't be able to find us. I assure him she will find us.

So he gestures I should lead and I square my shoulders and plow into the dining room behind the hostess who holds our menus high and blazes a trail through the melee of diners.

Leah is here with Merle and Pearlie. I wave at them from across the room glad to see Leah has surfaced once more.

We are taken all the way to the back wall. I know there is an emergency door back here, and I prefer to sit on the wall, so this is perfect.

I get in the booth, and Edward gets in next to me. I am looking at him.

"What?" he says scooting about as close to me as we'd been at church, so practically in my lap, shattering my personal space.

Does he know what he's doing to me? I don't even share a booth with Mom. She and Horny have to sit across from me so I can at least stay out of the crossfire of their conversation. Do I like Edward so close? Well I don't mind it so much, but it's not…easy either. And there are some eyes on us on top of it. I am twenty kinds of violated right now. I open the tall menu and close my eyes for a minute. God help me. I didn't pray this earnestly in church, but I'm trapped here, and I'm vibrating up against this man.

Edward has spoken to the waitress, telling her he'll just have water. He pulls my menu aside, actually opens it wider, like a door I've been crouched behind. "Your drink, Bella?"

"Um…water."

"What about Renee?"

"She'll um…Diet Coke." She won't be to the table until she's worked the room, visited everyone she knows, bending over tables so her heiny sticks out at the rest of the room, while her boob crack hits everyone she's talking to square in the face. I usually order and play with my phone until the food comes.

When Alice is here she works the part of the room Mom isn't in cause you can't be in two places at once, and Mom's usually slept with someone here, and law of averages so has Alice, so they have to do some careful maneuvering, and by the time they get to their chicken dinners I've eaten all the applesauce and most of the green beans cause it's family style and they've got enough gossip to swap clear through desert.

I hope Edward doesn't tell me my eyes are beautiful again. Trapped in the corner like this…I don't know what I'm capable of, but I have a picture in my mind of me taking off over the table, in my dress, shooting the beaver and just to get out of here because compliments make me so embarrassed I can barely breathe the few times I've gotten one, and compliments from Edward could easily make me spastic.

The waitress is gone, and I've closed him off with my menu again and he says, 'knock-knock,' and pretends my menu is a door and he's knocking upon it.

I shut the thing and lay it down, coming to terms. I can't hide all afternoon. He is right there, and so, so, so, so….

"Where were we Bella? Yes…you didn't come over last night but your mom brought the soup…you made…and it was delicious."

I have watched the words…his lips that make the words. I know it was English, but the process of vowels and consonants…I've not considered the sheer workmanship that goes into making…words before now…words like 'delicious.' So much flexing flesh is involved.

"Where is your mind…like right now? Tell me exactly what you're thinking, what I'm seeing in those big brown eyes?"

He's trying to kill me. I can feel my throat quivering.

The waitress brings our drinks. She looks at Edward the whole time, nearly sets my Coke on my silverware and catches it when I gasp. She stumbles over her words when asking if she can, "Fake our order?"

"If you fake, take it will we still get our food?" Edward asks with a brilliant smile, and the girl can't laugh, she is just stuck looking at him.

I clear my throat to help her out. Her poor performance has actually helped me come to my senses lest I look as pathetic. "Chicken for three," I say with authority.

"Oh," she says, trying three times to slide her order pad into her apron pocket, then giving up and walking away with it still in her hand.

"Smoking a dubee on her break no doubt," I say, suddenly back, mean as a snake and sharp as a tack.

Edward laughs and bumps his shoulder into mine. "You never answered my question."

My big brown eyes. "I just gave you…a glimpse," I say, meaning my dubee remark. That's pretty much what's in there, a wagon train of uselessness and twenty teams of braying mules.

"I'm starving," he says, his eyes looking at my lips.

My hand goes there. I hope I don't have a moustache that's showing up in this light or something. Or worse an old milk moustache that's hardened in place. When's the last time I had milk?

"What are you doing?" he laughs, pulling my hand from the fuzz check. Now he's holding my hand under the table, on his leg again, like in church, but nothing like that. And I have questions too, the great weight that gets him now and then, that rises in his big beautiful green eyes. Even I can see that, but nobody gets to lift the other's scalp and poke in the gray matter. No thanks.

"You're doing it again," he says, this glee face.

"What?"

"Thinking and not sharing," he says. "How do I get in there Miss Bella?" The other hand, the long pointer finger taps me on the forehead and I rear back a little. Spastic.


	13. Chapter 13

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 13

Chicken Part 2

Mom returns to the table, glowing with the words she has possibly shared or heard about Edward all over this land…room. She is checking out the close proximity of his shoulder to mine. I don't always catch these things, but I do see this. Before she can comment, Horny is here pushing her way into our side of the booth while she insists Jasper, my boss, sit next to Mom.

Mom moves and things rattle and click, and she steps on my foot under the table but I take it quietly, keep all my cursing mental.

The waitress is on it, standing at our table, grinning at Jasper now cause I guess he's attractive in the way men who look a little bit like women masquerading as men can be, and I don't mean transvestites, I mean men who've had too many sisters and learned too much about hair products or moisturizers or something.

Jasper smiles at me cause I've been staring and Alice is saying to the waitress, yes, two more, and I like white meat. Then she grins at Jasper, lifts the doo-dad bauble dangling from her necklace, and presses her lips on it while she stares at Jasper some more. He giggles and his Adam's apple bobs a few times and he gets very pink.

I am scrunched against the wall like my parts have surrendered to one of those space saving vacuum cleaner bags. Edward Cullen smiles at me like this is a good thing, but this booth is not made for three, not if fork moving is involved.

The waitress brings two more settings and Alice digs right in to the bowls of food already on the table, the applesauce, the potatoes and gravy, the green beans and coleslaw. She even serves Jasper.

Jasper says this all looks great, and then the waitress brings two small platters of chicken, dark for Jasper and white meat, barf, for Alice.

I have to put food on my fork, hold my fork aloft and move my head to my fork to take a bite while my arm stays frozen. Well I don't have to, but I want to. It's my protest.

If I wasn't so distracted by Edward's close proximity, but his hip and thigh especially, smooshed against mine…well I'm the left bun on the twerking sandwich and who would have thought.

Mom and Alice are laughing and Jasper is looking at Alice, big smile while he chews. And he eats his fried chicken with a fork and knife. While I covet his elbow room, I feel it's impossible to be his friend. And he is my boss for crying out loud. And I think it's the same shirt he wore to game night. Surely he's been home and returned? Surely…Shirley….

"Bella Marie?" Edward nudges me, offering the green beans. He's going to serve me, like Alice with Jasper. I nod and he puts a spoonful on my plate. "More?" he says.

I shake my head and continue to eat like my elbows are glued to my ribs while Alice tells Jasper and Edward and Mom her favorite deserts that they offer here. Her detail is inspiring. She goes on to tell how to make a really good cake from a boxed cake mix and what kinds of cakes her mother made her for her many, many birthday parties.

"Bella, do you pick your garden this afternoon?" Edward asks me, perhaps rescuing us from Horny's walk down memory lane.

I am licking potatoes from my fork. "Maybe." I do, but I don't want to commit myself. I have to work but for some reason I don't want to say that in case Jasper is listening. I don't want to give him any insight in to how I turn out copious amounts of work. I like him to wonder how I do it. So I shrug and keep licking the tines on the public fork, and Edward is watching too closely so I stop and poke a green bean.

"And the reason I ask," Edward says, low-voiced, "is because I noticed how loaded those little tomatoes are and I wondered if you wanted some help?"

I picture watching his long, long fingers working over…the vines.

"You don't nap?" I say, stalling.

"Once. At a park. I was with a girl…it's a long story. Best nap I ever had though."

"Sounds like some of the dates I've been on," Mom interjects and Alice snorts and has to drink her soda.

"Who naps at a park? Good way to get mugged," Alice says.

Jasper launches into a story about getting mugged. Someone took his bus fare when he was in college. It was probably high school and the bus fare was his lunch money. I'm smiling.

"What's that smile for?" Edward asks like I'm…adorable or something.

"What time?" I say.

"After lunch…after you take off that pretty dress," he smiles and nudges me again and it kind of hurts as my other shoulder is already scrunched on the wall.

The unfortunate dress remark was heard. By the whole table. No one is talking now, but Alice leans forward enough to eye me around Edward, probably wanting to make sure he actually said that to me, and not Beyonce which would better explain it.

I am staring back at her, a green bean on my fork, and it poised to enter the hangar…my mouth.

Then I look at Mom, and she is glaring at Edward. He smiles at her and goes on eating, so she eyes me, with her, 'I knew it,' face like I'm not practically a nun, but a secret whore who can't wait for lunch to be over so I can strip for our neighbor Edward Cullen.

And I'm not denying anything. Not even to my boss who doesn't know what the hell is going on. No, he doesn't think a thing of Edward mentioning my dress, as in 'take it off.' Just another day in the outback. Now he's telling us his favorite cakes and not even Alice seems to care.

"You got any kids Edward?" Renee says. I lay the green bean down, and the fork it roofs.

"No. I don't have any children," Edward says smoothly, "remember?"

"None you know about, huh?" Mom says licking her finger with a loud pop then using her napkin on her hands like she's about to perform surgery.

"Mom," I say because what the heck?

"I have no children, Renee. I told you this last night."

"You did. You've got an answer for everything, a nice tidy answer. Four years of college, psychology to political science. Useless you say. Former high school teacher. Wanted a new challenge, a fresh start. I'll give you that. Two women next door, you've got nothing but time. You're young, uncommonly…everything. And we're supposed to believe that a man like you has no other options than to flatter an aging widow and her…impressionable daughter?"

"Mom," I say again because it's better than throwing the applesauce.

"You come here…buy a house that's sat idle for years because Alfred Hitchcock is dead and no one else wants it for their horror movie. You're never phased by anything much…never ruffled…but you're a real good singer, and a mean guitar player…not mean. There's not a mean bone in your body. That would take some real commitment…meanness. Believe me, I know. I was married to Charlie Swan." She pitches her napkin onto her plate.

"And I've embraced you…like a friend. I've been a damn good neighbor, and now I hear you mention…my daughter's dress?"

"Renee, I apologize for using that reference…."

"Reference you call it?" Mom says.

The waitress appears, "Any desert?"

"No," Alice answers, dismissing her while her eyes are glued to Mom. "Renee," she says, but Mom won't look at her, won't look away from Edward.

Edward…who's calm hand is calmly holding my knee says, "Renee, I was asking Bella if I could help pick her cherry…shit…her tomatoes," he says, suddenly more flustered than I've ever seen him.

I have to laugh at that. I'm sorry. This whole thing, well I'm laughing and if my mouth was full of applesauce it would be coming out of my nose.

"Bella?" Edward says, lightly tapping my back and also smiling really big even though I think he's trying to look serious for Mom. Mom is smiling, but it's evil, that smile, no where near good, the face she wears when interrogating a student.

"You think this is funny?" Mom says. "Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Edward."

I groan because I hate, hate when she says that.

"Renee," Edward says while I push on him cause I have to get out, "I am sorry about this misunderstanding. I hope you can forgive me and we're still friends." He takes his free hand, not the one that's returned to my knee, and holds it over his empty plate and the rest of the mashed potatoes, for Mom to shake.

"Aw Renee, give a guy a break," Alice says, squeezing on Edward like he's just knocked on her door with the Publisher's Clearing House check.

"Move please," I'm mumbling now because the laughing is pretty well over and I'm ready to cut a bitch if Alice Brandon doesn't get her white meat out of the booth.

Edward is touching me here and there, "I'm waiting for Alice, Bella. Just a minute."

Alice finally stops humping Edward and stands. Then Edward unfolds, digging for his wallet and some bills, and I am out and out. I'm flying around tables and chairs. I run into the lobby and almost knock poor Pearlie over. There's my ride home. I tell a kindly blinking Merle, "I'll be in your car."

"Bella," Merle calls as I push the glass door, "it's locked."

Outside I go left and right, my arms swinging like they'd fall off if not for the attachment to my shoulders. Where in the hell….

I see Merle's flesh colored 1981 Cadillac and I head for it like a carrion bird toward a dead bison.

I'm not running from Mom. It's Edward. His hands, his…everything. One more minute that close, feeling that hand. Shit. Where have I been? I say that outloud. Then I see him exit the diner and hold the door and out comes Merle and out comes Pearlie, and Leah, and the four of them head for me.

I fold my hands in front of my throbbing baby maker and wait.


	14. Chapter 14

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 14

Post-chicken: In the car—and after.

"You're not going with Mom?" I state the obvious to Edward as he approaches and I can't hold his eyes for long because he's just so…damn.

He says to me over the roof of the car, "Merle says I can hitch a ride with you all." He's a southerner now.

Merle is helping Pearlie in, and Edward holds Pearlie's door like he must do something, so in the meantime I have my door open and Leah comes around to my side and I tell her, "Get in."

And true to Leah-form she resists. "I'm not sitting by him," she says. "You get in."

"Leah, get in," I say with all this conviction, like Gandalf with the Balrog or something.

"You get in…Bella," she says and Merle has come around to the driver's side and he's standing there, deep comb marks in his hair and a red bow tie and gray shiny suit coat. I know the look, and so does Leah. He homeschooled us same time.

"Ladies," Merle says, reminding us.

"Shit Merle," Leah mumbles. She gets in and I do, but before I can close the door, Edward opens it, nearly wrenching my arm out of its socket because I am opposed, but he gets in and I barely have time to shove Leah over to the other door so he doesn't sit on my lap.

"Fuck Swan," Leah says, then she looks at Merle, "Sorry." She leans forward, "Sorry Pearlie," she says.

"What's that?" Pearlie says to Merle and he pats her shoulder then rearranges himself and starts the dead bison but even then you can hear his sigh. He tried. God knows he tried. But we are this.

And Edward Cullen is beside me, holding my ponytail on the shelf behind the seat, his long legs open, his knee touching mine. I am not looking at him, my arms folded, staring straight ahead.

"Bella," Edward says, but I ignore him and turn to Leah.

"We made three twenty Saturday." I purposely leave out Edward's hundred this time.

"Way cool," Leah says still looking out the window.

"Hey," I poke her, "eye contact."

Merle shoots me a look in the rearview and I smile. If poor Merle had a nickel for everytime he said that, 'eye contact,' to me or Leah. We both hated to look at…people.

"Leave me alone," Leah says.

I pinch her side.

"Stop it psycho," she whines, but she smiles a little.

"Merle, Leah called me psycho," I say just for old times.

Merle ignores me and Pearlie says, "My favorite movie."

Leah does laugh then, but quietly cause that's how one laughs at Pearlie.

I feel that tug on my ponytail again. "You know I was only saying cherry tomatoes, right?" Edward whispers close to my ear. His hot breath on my ear is the date-rape drug Rohypnol. I am almost in a hypnotic state now.

Then Pearlie turns around and grins at me. "Edward sure is a handsome man."

Leah has her head back and her body shakes. We live for Pearlie's words. Well we used to. It's how we got through Merle's dedication to our educations.

Edward beams at me. "Why thank you Miss Pearlie," he says.

Pearlie doesn't respond, but she's smiling and looking out her window.

I don't say anything either. But I'm coming out of my drugged-state.

"Did you hear me? About the tomatoes?" Edward says releasing another cloud of Rohypnol.

"Yes," I say, not 'yes master.' But really, beat a dead horse why don't you.

"So how about it? We pickin'?"

There's Mom to consider. He's not…retreating. Mom…is not happy. And now he got a different ride home. How did that help the situation? Well, so did I. But he followed. He follows me all the time. And Mom is used to my rejection. She counts on it.

"Merle was a handsome man," Pearlie says still gazing out the window. "My mom didn't like him. Remember that Merle? Mother thought he was a con-man."

Merle sits straighter in his seat, moves his thin neck like he's got a cramp.

"He sold vacuum cleaners door to door. That's how we met," Pearlie says. She's smiling at Merle. "He's still handsome," she says.

"How many years?" Edward asks.

"Sixty two," Merle says because Pearlie would never remember if Merle didn't tell her.

Edward whistles. "That's fantastic." He yanks on my ponytail again. "Miss Pearlie did your mom come around?"

"No. She waited for him to die so I could come home, but she died first."

"Hmm," Edward said, close to my ear again. Then to the front, "Did it bother you, Merle? I mean Pearlie's mother hating you?"

Merle looked in the mirror for a brief second, found Edward's eyes. "Nah," he growled. "Some people thrive on hate and some on love. That woman hated me long before I showed up."

"Good to know," Edward said low, more to himself this time.

"So does that mean you loved Pearlie's mom Merle?" Leah piped up always a bit of a ball twister.

"Sure," Merle said. "After all…she made Pearlie."

Merle was just too good for us. Always had been. But the people in this car, right now, even Leah with her dark moods, Edward with his looks and touches, it felt alright. It felt good. It felt safe.

We got out at Merle's house. Leah went across the street. "Bake," I called and she flipped me the bird without turning around. She lived by herself since her mom died, but it was hers, and a little money, so she could get lazy and give in to the black hole. But when she got going she was as hard working as…well as me. She'd always been that way, fighting that dark strangler. She was on anti-depressants and something for anxiety. But most of the time she did alright.

Once when we fought big, she said I was my mother's little baby, afraid of life, and at least she wasn't like me. But the truth? She was a lot like me. And I told her that, and I told her the difference. She used everything to stay down. I used it to get up. She cried bullshit, and we never went back to that day. I think we both knew we couldn't survive another round like that and stay friends.

Merle said that. He'd heard the screaming and he talked to each of us, separately. He said we must never attack one another. We had to look at ourselves. We had to change ourselves. He said we needed a common cause not birthed in tragedy. He called the dog shelter and the rest is history.

So we hadn't fought for years, Leah and me, but they didn't go away…the words, because they never did. I knew what she thought, and she knew what I did, but she liked to bake and I liked to grow things, and we both loved the dogs.

So Edward and I walk to our houses and I slap my forehead because I forgot to bring Billy a dinner. That meant I'd have to make him something. I didn't mind, but he loved fried chicken. I say this to Edward.

"Let's go back there and get him something," Edward says.

I can feel the sand slipping through the hourglass. Days of Our Lives, I know, but I can feel it and I have so much to do.

"I'll go back," he says.

He asks to take my truck and I say okay. He drives to the diner and I hurry upstairs to change, or slip into something more comfortable. Right Mom.

So I do that, get on my usual Raggedy Ann ensemble, shorts and a tee-shirt and my flip-flops. Thank God I've already leveled the stalks growing out of my legs. Mom still isn't home, and a half hour later she still isn't home, but forty minutes after that she drives in, Edward behind her, blocking her in, but then he doesn't know better.

He gets out with the dinner and I hurry down the porch to take it right over cause it is already late. Mom gets out of her car and says something to Edward and they are already laughing.

I don't say anything, but go to Edward and take the meal. I try to give him the eight dollars but he isn't having it, insists it was nothing.

"Do you want to take this over?" I ask, hoping he'll say no because…I do this.

"No you take it," he says. Then he goes back to bantering with Mom about the ideas she has for his house. I take the dinner to Billy all the while marveling that they have somehow made up. I guess that is what took Edward so long. I imagine he ran into Mom at the diner and they talked.

I go up on the porch and set the dinner on the TV tray there and cup my eyes and look in the door and Billy is in his chair. I knock and he says, "Bella come in."

So I take the dinner in.

"He's left," Billy said. "Jacob packed up and left this morning."

"For the army?"

"He's staying with a friend until he goes. I…I think it's a woman. I'm not sure."

Billy doesn't ever raise the blinds, but it is dirty in here. Now that Jake is gone, well before I take over I will clean. "You need to tell me what to do. What you need."

He is staring toward the T.V. and shaking his head.

"Don't…don't. We talked about it before when he got mad that time. You just have to quit being so proud and tell me."

He looks at me. "What good am I?"

Someone makes a touchdown on the television and the crowd, a sea of color, waving towels, goes wild. I move to a chair and slowly sit.

I knew what Merle would do here—say something great, Shakespeare, to be or not to be. He had a quote—well he had a bunch and he'd used them all when talking to me and Leah. He made us write essays, but there was this one, and I couldn't remember the whole thing, knew I'd butcher it, but Merle said it was bad when someone died, but suicide was a crime against all of mankind. Something like that, but were we talking suicide cause…Billy didn't believe in it.

"Billy…you want to talk to Merle?"

"No," Billy said sharply. "You're already saddled with Renee, and now me? I'd rather be dead than put more on you, Bella."

"Then do more for yourself," I say. Oh shit I didn't mean it. "It's a pigsty in here. No wonder Jacob wanted to leave." Oh God, I can't stop. "You used to G. I. things. That's what you called it. Now it's just dark..and sad. It feels really sad in here. And it stinks. And what's with peeing in jars? Get your lazy ass up and pee in the toilet! Then clean the damn toilet now and then, Billy." Oh crap I'm standing. "Are you in there? Are you still in there?"

Oh shit. I've got so many feelings in me, all stirred up, all of a sudden. "What are you doing sitting all day? You don't laugh, you don't…you don't get a special car so you can drive. You were a cop! You were my hero! You told me to try. You told me to keep trying! But you don't try. You big…hypocrite!"

"Bella," he says amazed.

"What?" I yell back. "Leah does better than you. Mom at least went back to school. Jacob…he's trying…right? But I don't know Billy…you don't try. You just don't try."

I have to get out but I stop at the door. "I want a list of everything you need me to do. I want a list, Billy. Now…eat your chicken."

I go out then.

There is no sign of Edward. Good. I need to be alone. I run up the stairs to my room and close the door. I'm just getting started on my files when I hear Mom coming to knock on the door.

"Bella?"

Crap. "Come in."

She opens the door, eyes locking on me.

"I'm working," I say.

She stays in the doorway. "Edward and me…it's better."

I don't say anything. I don't know why it had to happen in the first place. But it's just another chapter in the great book of why.

"I saw. I have to get some work done."

"Don't be like this," she says.

I don't bring up the bills, but they come due every month and some of us have to pay for more than the cell phones and the cable.

"He's…a good person…Edward. I think," she says, shoulder on the doorframe.

I keep my fingers poised over the keys.

"I just…I don't want you hurt," she says.

"A little late," I say. God there is no stopping me today.

She pulls away from the woodwork. "Did he hurt you?"

"He pulled my hair." I stare.

"He's a man, Bella."

"I saw."

"You're aware he's flirting with you. It's harmless. He doesn't mean anything. You seem so…you light up around him. You're infatuated."

"Go downstairs, Mom."

"Bella, what's gotten in to you? We can't talk about this?"

"No."

"Well Edward understands. I made sure of it."

"Understands? What?"

She gestures toward me. "That you've been through a lot."

"What did you say?" I am standing.

"Don't worry, I didn't go into detail, I just said he needs to think again if he's looking to…well you know how men are. And I have to go back to work, you're here all day…it's not good."

Traffic jam. Do I know how men are? Yes. Oh God, I know things about men…since I was ten years old. And the men on Match, Mom and Alice…I know things. I know things. But men like Edward Cullen? I don't know anything.

"Don't speak about me," I say.

"You're my daughter."

I want to tell my own things. I want to say them my own way. Why can't she understand this?

"I'm going to be decorating his house…that house. I have to be sure he's upstanding. He's right next door for God sakes. Someday you might be a parent, then you'll understand. But if you just let a man…touch you…he can get the wrong idea, Bella. You can't let him touch you like that."

"Mom…go downstairs." I'm trying to remember what Merle would say. I've tried to look for the thing Mom and I can gather around. We have the house, and our work. I have my garden and the shelter and patrol. I have Billy and Leah and Merle and Pearlie. Mom has Alice and all the men on Match. And there's Edward. Maybe we'll have to share Edward. But we've never shared before. And Edward has his own ideas.

That's it. Edward is his own person. He'll decide…with each of us. For now, he said we're friends. He makes songs, he likes dogs, we took a nap, he pulls my hair, holds my hand, touches my knee, hypnotizes me.

"Mom, I have to get this done so I can pick my garden with Edward."

"Oh, he's helping."

"Yes. He said he wants to."

She looks at me for a minute. "Bella…be careful."

"Mom, I have to work."

She sighs, rubs her temples, pulls in a big breath through her nose, her neck growing longer, her jaw set as she looks toward my window.

I don't know why she's home anyway. Sunday is a big hook-up day usually. After church and chicken she's usually on the back of some old guy's motorcycle by now.

I don't want her in my room. I don't want to talk to her. I have this feeling, this new crazy, awful decision that's been made in me, just today at the diner, and I'm just hearing it now. I don't want Mom anywhere around. It's too late for this…her…caring…or pretending to. It's too late. I'm not even mad. It just doesn't matter.

"Mom, go downstairs. I have to work."

For all she misses, she does not miss that something has changed. "Are you alright?"

I will be. Eventually, if I can keep working really hard and not go crazy…I will be.


	15. Chapter 15

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 15

I have fallen into the work chasm. By evening I am so deep in I'll need a rope lowered with a stretcher to get me out. That's when I hear a song…Edward's song…about me…so my song. It's about a girl, a girl, a computer genius girl who needs to come outside and pick her tomatoes. I make the sound in my neck and I think I'm his groupie.

I go to my window and there he is strumming that guitar in front of my garden. He's come into my yard. Very brave because Renee is downstairs as she has never gone out. I should think he was finished with us and all of our twists and turns.

I am standing in front of the window and the curtains are pushed back and he is looking right at me, he's finished singing, but he's still strumming. I wave. I'm sorry we are us, my mother and me, and I'm sorry that we are both feeling something for him. Maybe what we feel is good, maybe it's not, maybe it's dark, maybe it's light, fair or unfair, too much or not enough, I don't know…but I want to.

And he's still playing, and he's smiling.

Well…that is the stretcher I need and I look in the mirror really quickly and I am so alive in this moment, I am so alive. It's nothing to write home about, my reflection. Am I pretty? I have no idea. I have always thought I'm plain. But the happiness I feel, right now, it's making me much more…something.

I redo my ponytail and that's pretty much it.

Downstairs, Mom is in her room. Her television is so loud I guess she didn't hear Edward's serenade. I grab my knife for cutting eggplant and okra and the baskets and go outside, but I don't let the screendoor slam.

He is at the porch now. The way he looks at me, it makes me shy and bold at the same time. And he's so pretty…maybe it's rubbing off.

He is laying his guitar on the porch and he takes a basket. We just smile at one another, neighborly. I guess Renee can't stop this…our friendship. Not for him…and not for me.

"That song is getting pretty long," I say.

"There are more verses in the universe waiting to write themselves," he says.

I have to laugh at that because, it's like a Lifetime movie. I have to do something and he's quite possibly very full of shit. I don't tell him I ripped Billy a new one, then had words of some crazy sort with Mom. I nearly tell him Jacob left Billy, then I hold back. I don't know why I want to talk so much when even a fool is thought wise if she just keeps her mouth shut.

We get to the garden and it is a fine mess what with not getting picked before now. If plants were milk cows they'd all be mooing. So I check the beans and Edward seems bent on picking the cherry tomatoes, but I'll never speak of that fruit again without smiling, but then I'm not smiling because I get slammed with a lightning bolt. Mom told him I'm a virgin.

I know she gave him something, something kind of big because she'd want to use my life to hide her own. She couldn't very well say she had a bitch-fit, but she could say she was just watching out for her little virgin. Damn it I'd been too busy all day to let this get through, but now that it had I was mad all over again.

"What's that noise about?" Edward asks, popping a tomato in his mouth.

"What noise?" I almost say, Is that a question to ask a lady? But I don't.

"I mean the sound of…one hand clapping."

"Have you been drinking?"

He laughs. "That sound you always make…like a bee trapped in your throat," he clarifies.

"Just…I don't know. Sometimes that sound comes out…on its own." Okay, that sounded wrong so I get back to work and feel a tomato hit my head. It makes me stand up. "Don't throw the produce."

He smiles. "Tell me one thing."

"What?" Am I a virgin? Not telling.

"What was that sound for?" He stands too.

"What? You're…." I make a twirly finger by my temple and bend back over the chard. But he keeps standing there looking at me so I straighten again. "What?"

"I talked to your mom."

"So?"

"Oh, defensive. " He must deduce how pissed off this line of conversation is already making me. "Just so you know, she apologized for the restaurant...thing. She thinks I'm a dirty old man looking to tie you to the railroad tracks in front of an on-coming train. That's after I have my wicked way with you."

He gets right back to work, butt in the air, but that doesn't last, and he squats and starts to whistle. He's just assumed I'm not going to say anything about this.

"What'd she say? She tell you my business?" Soon as he looks at me I look away and start pinching off the medium sized leaves.

"You didn't talk to her about it?"

I look at him and he's standing again, hand on the small of his back. He's stretching side to side.

I think he is a perfect man. There's nothing about him that doesn't excite me. This is so phase one.

"Talk about what?" I say to try and dive back in to whatever it was that seemed more important than just…beholding him in my garden this way.

"Okay…what were you thinking just now? You do that, like pause…and I wonder where you go."

"No place. I'm right here," I say.

He reaches in his basket and grabs another tomato and tosses it at me. It hits my leg and I pick it up.

"Look at us…Adam and Eve," he says.

That makes me laugh. For many reasons. He laughs too.

"Are you Adam…or the other guy?"

"Oh…God?"

I laugh and throw the tomato back at him. It hits him in the place, and he groans and bends over. I have my hand over my mouth, and he looks up with this goofy smirk.

"Liar," I say. He had me going.

"Takes more than a cherry tomato to knock out my guys."

"Your guys?" I do laugh now. "And please don't ever say cherry tomato to me again."

Now he laughs, doubled over. Then he stays down there and starts picking again, but it's only a minute before he hits me with another tomato.

"You're juvenile. You know that, right?"

"Cherry tomato," he says like a frog says 'ribet.'

"Stop," I whine looking for the tomato, finding it and returning it.

He keeps up the 'cherry tomato' at intervals. I know she told him.

After we pick the garden he invites me over to watch Breaking Bad. He's going to make his famous French fries, he tells me. Am I up for it?

I stand by the porch, setting down the second basket. Cozy times at Freida's? I hate feeling this way. It's not that I haven't been in there a few times over the years. It just doesn't feel good.

"I have to take supper to Billy."

"We'll take him some fries. Your mom, too."

I don't know. I don't know.

I run inside for a Cool Whip container so Edward can take some of the cherry tomatoes home. I hear Mom in her room talking on her cell.

I get the container and meet Edward on the porch. "What time?" I still have patrol. It's not dark yet, but it soon will be.

"Come over now," he says scooping tomatoes in the bowl. "Or whenever. Whatever you need to do. But soon. Soon as you can. Five minutes. Three seconds."

He's giving me all the space in the world, but not really. He stands, the red and yellow fruits in the bowl he holds against the white T-shirt. He's backing away, picks up his guitar and backs down the stairs even.

"Thing about my fries you have to eat them while they're hot." He seems very calm, very sure of himself, but he's holding my gaze…too long.

"Okay," I say because I don't know what else to say that will sound…acceptable. I just lectured Billy and now I can't take my own advice? I have to try. And if Edward and I are going to be friends, then I have to be able to go to his house sometimes.

So I sort my produce. I'm barely aware. I slice up a couple of peppers and whip up some dip and put it all on a dish, real nice, a big one for Edward and me, a small one on a paper plate for Billy.

As I'm walking to Edward's Horny pulls up at our house. I'm actually glad to see her. Now Mom won't be alone. I've never had to worry about that before. Mom leaves me. That's always how it goes. But now it's different.

I step onto Freida's porch and knock on the screendoor and Edward appears, a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder. "You don't have to knock," he says holding the door wide and I keep my two stacked plates close to my body, digging into my stomach actually and I sidle around him. He closes the door and leads the way into the kitchen. "C'mon Miss Bella. I'm back here."

He's so casual about it, leading me into the guts of this place. I don't look around, but I see everything anyway. There aren't many boxes, and they are shoved neatly against the wall. Thee wall, but that's from another time.

There is a couch, a coffee table and a medium sized flat screen.

Unless the boxes are full of knick-knacks, there are none set around the room.

The kitchen is different, better cabinets from what I remember. It's not very big, never was, but it's very functional and a little bit stylish with a dishwasher and dark floor. There's a small island and he's peeling potatoes in the sink then slicing them into fries on a cutting board on the island.

"You want to peel, or slice, or just watch?"

I'm on overload again. Plus I'm tired. Sleeping on the floor the night before hasn't done much to help me take the sensory load this house, and its owner inspires.

"Hey I know," he says, and I wonder if he's nervous. "You go sit on the couch and I'll being you some tea."

"You make tea?"

"No. It's bottled. But it's not bad."

But I don't want to be off by myself. The house is more bearable when he's there to distract me, and he always distracts me.

"I'll peel," I say, and he smiles and I smile and shake my head a little. I set my plates on the island then I go to the sink and look at the situation. He's peeling with a paring knife. There are three peeled already and I count eight more to go. I jump when I feel his arms come around me.

"Sorry," he says. "Apron. This is wet work."

Okay. He's toying with me now, but when I turn my face he is right there. Right there, so I look at the potatoes and hold onto the edge of the sink. "You look good at my sink, Swan," he whispers, tying the apron right over the crack of my ass, to be blunt. A tug on my ponytail and he's done.

Holy crap I should say something. But my mind is white fuzz. I go for the knife. "No peeler?" I say, keeping my head down.

"Um…no," he says, standing beside me, turned in the opposite direction as he works at the island.

One more step over and we'd be cheeks to cheeks and we could twerk. I am smiling, and I need to take these thoughts captive and throw away the key.

We work that way for just a minute.

"She told me you don't date," he said. "I know you're wondering. I really wouldn't do that you know…go around your back to get to know you." He turns and waves his knife at me. "It's too much fun finding out for myself…all your secrets Swan. But she wanted to explain her…protective side."

"She doesn't know me like she thinks. I hear her explain me sometimes…and she's wrong." I have said this easy, like my tongue is Teflon or something, words sliding off. I've given him my anger…at her. It's not entirely fair…or something a decent person does. I'm shit.

"Right. We talked about her work. She loves to…."

"Talk about herself," I say.

"…talk about her work."

I get back to scraping. "You have a right to talk to her…say what you want. It's just…."

"You're not wanting to waste," he says, watching the flecks of peel fly off the white flesh beneath.

I don't say anything. Actions are louder than words. I finish the potato, hand it to him and gather the ones already in the sink. I lay them behind me on the island. I notice the pan of oil heating on the stove and the thermometer sticking out of it. "You're precise," I say.

"Three twenty-five."

I take the knife from his hand and start to slice, since he can't seem to talk and work at the same time.

"There's no need to peel the potatoes at all. Most of the vitamins are right under the skin," I say.

"Swan, my famous fries don't have skin. Those vitamins will never survive the hot oil anyway."

"Suit yourself," I say turning back to the sink. "But frying doesn't leech vitamins it just adds fat and calories."

"Duly noted," he says and I hear his knife slice through. "You're smart, not too ugly, a mean gardener, an excellent walker…mover in general…so about the no dating…."

"What did Renee say?"

"She's protective because you may be twenty-seven but you're very innocent, and you don't date so I need to keep my lecherous paws to myself. She didn't put it quite that way…that's what I heard. And she's probably right…or is she?"

I think of the apron tying. Obviously he's doing what he wants.

"Swan…is she right? Have I made you uncomfortable?"

"Do you think you've been…too much?"

"I'm just having fun. Just goofing around. But you'd tell me if I was making you…uncomfortable, right?"

Wow, this kitchen is not large enough for this conversation.

"Is that why you touch me? You're goofing around?" I stand next to him. I am looking at the potato he's slicing. He's stopped now. When he looks up he's staring at me.

"Why else? I've only known you a week. Right?"

I swallow. "Right. Tomorrow. A week tomorrow."

"It's not good for man to be alone."

He remembered the sermon.

"You're lonely," I say. It's probably rude.

"I'm pathetic aren't I," he says.

I laugh. "No. Where's your family?"

"Dead. They're all dead. I'm an only child."

I think at first he's joking, but he isn't.

"How long have you been the only one?"

"Since college. My mother raised me and she died. I never knew my father. It was just Mom and me. She died first year of college." He's not looking at me. He scoops up a load of potatoes in his hands and goes to the stove. "Close enough," he says looking at the thermometer, then he carefully drops the slices into the oil and the bubbling sounds loud and steam rises.

I stand beside him. "You said no children…so never married?"

He smiles briefly, eyes still on the pan. "No. Not even a serious girlfriend really."

"Why not?"

He does look now. "You first."

I shrug. "No time."

He shrugs. He better not say, no time, because teachers have their summers off.

"No inclination." He looks at me, "Also not gay so don't ask."

I laugh. "Also not gay," I say.

He laughs. "Good to know."

I stop laughing. "Why? You got something against gay people?"

He takes the knife and pokes at the fries, shaking his head and smiling. I guess he's not going to answer.

"So why this house? Did you buy it on-line or something?"

"These are ready," he says. It's a flurry then, he gets a plate I look around and see the paper-towels, tear off two sheets and lay them double on the plate and he gets two forks to use as tongs, another implement he either doesn't have or hasn't unpacked.

"So what do you think about me? What have you observed so far?" he asks scooping out his first batch of golden slices.

"You brought the basics. But nothing extra—the clutter. You came here, but whatever your life was, you left it behind," I say.

He looks at me, a deep look. I think, damn—did I say too much?

He finishes taking out the fries, puts in another batch. He unwraps a new shaker of seasoned salt. He's powdering the fries with this.

"What else?" he says, but he is suddenly serious.

"Well, my guess is there are mostly books in those boxes. You couldn't bear to part with them. And you're not wired, no internet. An odd choice…like you're unplugged.

"Go on," he says.

"You're lonely, which means you've known people and this…isn't what you're used to. In some way…it's like you're just discovering life. Small life. The kind a person overlooks because they have something…bigger.

"Hmm," he says. "Go on."

"You're elegant. More Sherlock than Matlock. It's like you've been away but you don't have brutality on you…but you're sad. You haven't lost hope completely though. But yeah…you're disillusioned.

"You're easy to please, like…it takes nothing to please you."

He finally does look at me and his eyes are…soft. "What else?"

"I don't know. I've said too much."

"Don't do that. Don't hold back when I'm asking…you not to. Please." It's a little like he was in church, when he nearly crushed my hand.

I lick my lips. "You think I have the answers. And of course I don't. I'm so afraid for you to realize that. I'm nothing much. But you…you've done things. Seen things. And…."

"Don't stop, Swan," he says this with so much feeling.

"…I think you have been in love…maybe more than once. But I could be wrong."

He is staring at me now, his mouth open a little, his eyes…something tragic, something magic. I could look into his eyes, fall into his eyes…me.

"I'm sorry. I…I said too much. I always…."

He just keeps looking, and I'm a little afraid. I don't know what this look means.

"You ah…you can take this first batch over to Billy if you want." He looks away and fumbles around in the pantry, coming out with a new, unopened box of aluminum foil.

He puts the whole first batch in the foil then goes in the living room and comes back in with some waded up newspaper from one of the boxes and wraps the foil package in that. "Here," he says handing it to me. "You won't burn your hands."

"Thanks…look, Edward, if you're tired or something…let's just call it a night…."

"No, it's alright. It's fine, Bella. It's fine. You just…surprised me. I asked for it, remember? I wanted to hear it. I didn't know…I mean you really thought about it. You're…you're observant." Then in a stronger voice, "You're wrong…mostly…but…go on and get Billy done and I'll finish up here."

I just nod, so sorry I said so much. I take the plate of green peppers I made for Billy and take the foil off the plate I'd made for us.

Then I leave and I am barely aware of walking out of Edward's and across the street. As I walk up Billy's porch stairs, I look at the newspaper Edward wrapped the fries in for the first time. That's when I see it's from Chicago. He's never said where he's from exactly. At game night I heard him tell Mom he'd lived all over the Midwest. So Chicago is not far-fetched. But there's something there, like a confirmation-I know I'm not so wrong about him. He left a life…somewhere.


	16. Chapter 16

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 16

Billy is not in his chair. I ask him where he is and he says, "Back here," and he is in his room.

I'm not going back there. He's not an invalid.

"I'm setting your dinner on the table. You need to eat it right away, while it's still hot. Okay?"

"What is it?" he says.

"French fries. They're…homemade. Edward made them."

He doesn't respond.

"Need anything?" I call.

"No," he says after a beat.

"I…I shouldn't have yelled. Before. But…I meant it."

Nothing.

I start to leave, but I look around again.

"Tomorrow…I'll be here in the morning. We're gonna clean," I say.

He doesn't speak so I go out.

Horny is still at my house. She'll have lots to tell Mom. Edward had mentioned taking fries to Mom, but I'm not doing it. I don't know if he wants me back, and the sun has set. I really don't know, but I just want to do patrol. I think I said too much and now it feels forced, but he said to come back. He expects me to.

I knock on Freida's door. He is right there. "You don't have to knock," he says opening the door for me.

I see right away he's got the food set up on the coffee table. He's waiting for me. But he's frying the last batch and he goes in the kitchen to take that out.

I sit on the edge of the couch, stare at the wall, try not to. Mom says she wouldn't buy a house if someone died in it. She thinks a house should be torn down if someone was murdered there. He never answered about this place, what made him buy it. One thing I know, he bought it sight unseen cause until that day he rolled up here in the rental truck, he'd not looked at this place.

He comes in the room then, and right away…he's different. He is nervous. He's got the television on but the volume low. "Have you been keeping up with the show, Swan?"

"Sort of. If I don't see it I read about it."

"That's not the same. You need to hear Jessie, hear Walter, right?"

"Edward…did I say too much before?"

"What? No." He puts down the bottle of tea for me and a water for himself and goes to the wall and opens the first box and reaches in and pulls up a frame that he flips back and forth on a stand. It's sand art, constantly reshifting itself as he moves it one way or another. "See? Knick-knack as it gets." He throws it back in the box. "You're not right about everything."

"I'm sorry."

"No. Don't be sorry. Nothing to be sorry about." He sits down a couple of feet away from me. He's sat hard enough to jar me. He hands me my drink, cracks the lid off of his and takes a few swallows like he's parched.

"Eat up," he says.

I don't want to. I just want to leave, get ready for patrol. I have things to do and…I'm embarrassed now, embarrassed to be here.

But he puts a heap of fries on the empty plate before him. I can see he's started on the green peppers. "This dip is excellent," he tells me, dipping a fry in there.

He still hasn't turned the television up. I hope he doesn't.

He sits back then, his plate against his flat stomach. "Eat up," he says to me again.

I take my fork and get a few potatoes and put them on my plate. We're using papertowels for napkins and I hold this in one hand a fry in the other and I lean back like him , only I nibble. "Good," I say.

He nods but he just keeps eating. "Billy okay?"

I decide to tell him about Jacob leaving.

"So you're what…gonna be responsible for Billy now?"

"I'm cleaning his place tomorrow. Starting to anyway."

"So that's a yes? On Billy?"

"I don't know…yes."

"Just like that? You take that on?"

"Why?" I want to say, how's this your business? I shouldn't have told him.

"It's a big thing. Most people, they'd think it over at least. Bella…if Billy needs help Jacob shouldn't assume you've got nothing better to do."

"I don't," I say. "What's better than helping Billy?"

He sets his plate on the coffee table and stares at me.

"You mean that." He's not asking, he's just saying it.

Of course I do.

"God," he whispers looking away, rubbing his hands through his hair. He goes for the remote, turns up the sound, fishes through the channels, flips off the set, sets the remote on the table. "Bella…," he looks at me, "you don't want to watch T. V. You don't want to be here, do you?"

I shrug. Less all the time if I'm honest. "I have a lot to do," I say. I get it in my head, the next thing, then there's no stopping me.

He looks at me, looks away, laughs, smiles, wipes over his mouth.

"The fries are really good," I say, though I have no appetite.

"You feel sorry for me, don't you?" he says.

"No," I say.

"You just take care of people. You don't have to like them, right?"

"Why are you being like this?" I stand.

"Are you going to go now?"

"Yes."

He takes my hand. "I'm sorry. I…want you to be here…because I'm…fascinating." He laughs a little. He lets go of my hand.

"You kind of are," I say, softened by the look in his eyes.

He takes my hand again and pulls me back down. I go along and return my ass to the couch.

"Don't feel sorry for me," he says.

"Don't feel sorry for me," I say.

We are like that for a few seconds, letting that sink in and he still has my hand, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles.

"I don't," he says first.

"I…won't," I say.

"But you were. I knew it."

He'd said he was pathetic. He never denied being lonely, said as much.

"I'm not like the dogs in the shelter," he says, a sad smile.

"They're much cuter," I say, laughing at his surprise.

"I said you weren't so ugly," he says like I'm getting revenge on that.

I take my hand away and stand because I don't know what to do with him now. "I have to…."

"Can I walk with you?"

I catch my groan before it erupts. "I should go alone."

"Why?"

"It's always been that way."

"Maybe it's time for a change."

"Not yet."

"When?"

"I'll let you know."

"You didn't eat."

"I…I wasn't hungry."

"That stops you? I admire that." He laughs a little.

"I'll take some home if you…want."

"Sure."

I pick up my plate but he takes it and piles more on. I tell him again how good they are. He doesn't reply.

I am standing there holding the plate. "I'll go now," I say, embarrassed to be leaving, too embarrassed to stay. This is why I never date, not that this is a date, is it? No. It's just neighbors having French fries. But even this I mess up.

"Well…good-bye."

He stands up and laughs. "That sounded so final. You know I don't think you're ugly, right?"

Oh God. I open the screen and I'm on the porch now. I think of the moon walk, one giant step for mankind, or something. I'm almost off the porch. I walk slow but I keep moving.

"Bella…I'm joking. You know that right?"

I don't answer, I just keep moving.

Horny and Mom have moved to the kitchen. They are at the table and when I set the fries there they are oohing and ahhing, well Alice is. Mom is quiet. I say Edward made them and Mom says, goodie,goodie. "I guess you were at his house then. Bastard's gonna go right ahead. I guess you two never discussed paint chips."

"Mom," I say, hitting the table.

Alice shoots me a look. Pity. Edward is right…it's hard when people feel sorry for you. I hope I haven't done that to him. I didn't go over there because I feel sorry for him. But I have to admit, I know how to move toward people if some of that is there…pity.

"I'm going out," I say tiredly. I'm leaving things unaddressed, like dirty stinking dishes piled in the sink. I'm not facing things. She called him a bastard, and she's reaching for his food. I'm so disgusted with Mom right now. But I don't have the strength to admit how deep it goes.

Outside, in the dark, I want it to make sense. My flashlight is in my hand. I start to walk past Edward's house. I see the orange glow from his cigarette. He's on the porch. I don't know what to do, or say. Frieda's house has not only come to life, it has a heartbeat, it's staring at me, reaching for me…and it's Edward. I don't wave, I don't flick my light, I don't look for long, I just keep moving. I keep moving. I see the rental, cold and empty. No bottles on the porch. I have to make myself pay attention, make myself see, and hear, and I hear the steps behind me.

"Bella," he says. I stop then. I don't turn. "You were right, you were damn near right…and it pissed me off…it scared me…how right you were. It's all I can say. I'm…a fragment of myself. That's all. And you just laid it out like that…and I saw it. I..saw it. But you just said it…I don't know. But…I meant what I said about the pity. If that's all it is…then we can't be friends. I can't just be that…when I feel this…thrown. I've never been…so fucking…weak. And I'm trying to figure it out. But…I want to be your friend. Maybe I need you…maybe that's what I'm saying…but I'm asking you to help me be something good for you. Something more than another stray dog."

I click off my light and I turn to him. I get it. I know what he doesn't want. But I don't know what he does want. "I'm not…enough."

He takes another step, his hand reaching for mine. I still don't know. I just don't know.

His hand is warm, his fingers strong. I'm standing here. He's real. I can feel so much emotion in him, his displacement. He's been banished and he's reaching…for me.

"You can walk with me again tonight. Just once."

"Thanks," he says. "Are you sure?"

There is very little I'm sure of. Very few things. And I guard those closely. "I'm sure," I say. And I turn on my light…for us both.

The next day I am up early. I have slept heavily, dreamed in color, and as soon as I'm awake I come out of the dream, out of another world painted the brightest hues, into the paleness of my room.

I sit up. Then I get up.

I slept in my underwear only. I never do that. But I never walk with someone on patrol. I have allowed this twice. But I told him both times only once. That is how I'm not giving it away. It's mine. He has to know, it's mine.

I hit the laptop, make sure Jasper received my work. He's emailed me more to do. It's a thick file.

I let the shower bring me the final laps into the day. Thunder is rumbling as I dig for clothes. Mom is going to work today, fulltime. I look at the clock. She is already gone. But I felt that. As soon as I was up I felt the hallelujah.

I go to the window, naked, and the storm is kicking up a breeze on my bare skin. I'm so alive. I'm so here, and I feel it, all the past and the great rush of now.

Dressing is easy, shorts and a tee-shirt, armor against the dirt that awaits me at Billy's.

Downstairs I make oatmeal. I eat this on the back porch and my cat shows up and rubs on my legs.

The rain can't quite break free, but the sky is rolling with gray webs. I love this show. I love the way the birds tear across the sky like they have somewhere to go.

We are all so busy being busy, back and forth, stitching the stiches that hold the illusion together that we're building something that can't be touched, that can't unravel in tiny strokes on the clock. One minute you're alive, you're whole, and the next a bullet waffles like a football thrown your way, to tear a furrow in your skin, close to your heart, it's hot steak melting flesh, making that same heart quiver…because it's fragile as a bird winging and winging to escape the thunder.

My finger follows its path beneath the thin cheap worn out thread on my shirt. The scar keeps me anchored to myself and I know that this day like all the others I have had since…this day is my second chance.

Billy isn't in his chair. He's in the back room. Says he isn't getting up. Says to go away. I get busy.


	17. Chapter 17

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 17

There's a mouse running around Billy's and I have a thing about it. At first I'm being real respectful with Billy's stuff but this kind of dirt makes me mad, mad at Jacob, mad at Billy, mad at Mom, myself, Charlie, don't get me started.

I'm just mad. I look out the dirty window enough though, once I find it under all those haunted layers of casket lining he's got over the glass like he can keep out the world, or keep himself in or both, I don't know.

I rip it all down and the light, though not bright because the rain won't fall but it threatens, it's there, and it's cooled things off, but even still there's enough dust in this room to come together and re-skin a full grown man.

And then I see Edward over there, what the heck is he up to? Cutting his grass with Freida's old mower, the kind without a motor, just some good spit and muscle behind it, those old blades haven't tasted the wet green grass in two decades, and I go to the door just to listen, to hear their whirr that's more like Billy clearing his throat.

Edward has his shirt off and he's pushing, insisting the thing work, and it is. But man, Edward is digging in and straining forward. He only has on the beige shorts and his underwear showing around the waistband, and his tennis shoes on without socks. Shirt in his back pocket. I just like looking at him. It gives me some kind of crazy energy. This must be how Horny lives, all this energy. I have it now. I knew she was contagious.

"Take a picture," Billy says finally stumping into the room. I heard his noise, but I didn't think about it. That's how wiped my mind was seeing Edward. "What in the hell are you doing with my stuff? I ain't leaving that window uncovered like that. What in the hell are you messing with my things for?"

"Good to hear you care about something!" I yell back because I am not putting those stinking ghosts up at his window. He doesn't have his zipper up or his belt done. "Snowing down south," I say because we're going to have standards.

He drops into his chair. "It looks like hell in here."

"That's cause you can finally see hell!" I know it's not kind to say something about the situation. If you're going to help, keep your mouth shut and help, I say to myself. But it's hard work and Billy's bad attitude on top of it sucks.

"You can get busy in the kitchen. You're in my way here," I say, knowing he's not going to budge.

He picks up the remote and turns on his ancient television. I'm surprised it even works with a remote. It's big and probably heavy as a refrigerator. He turns it up pretty loud. I go to the vacuum cleaner and turn it on and it's not nearly loud enough, but it coughs out a cloud of dust, like we need more, and it makes a lot of noise but doesn't pick up shit.

I snap it off. "Billy, I swear it's like your whole life just stopped in the nineties."

Well, that was pretty mean. He doesn't say anything, but it's just so bad that I said that. I hurt Edward last night and now Billy. It's just better if I never talk again.

But that mouse shot across the floor, too close to my feet and I take off screaming and run out the door.

I am out there, clear to the middle of the front yard before I can stop myself, bent over, hands on my knees because I have a thing about mice and I just knew that one was going to run up my leg. I'm breathing and this whole job looks pretty hopeless.

Then I feel that hand on my shoulder. I straighten up and jump and thunder crashes just then. "Bella what happened," he says.

Edward Cullen can't have a bad day. It's just not possible. Without a shirt, well I'm glad I'm probably already red in the face from the rodent. I surely am now. The rest of us have eyes and a nose, features thrown on our faces like a handful of dice thrown for craps, a little bit of Mom a little bit of Dad, but Edward, he just shows us the possibilities for the human race and now we know…it could have been better. He lucked out. That's it.

I don't try to answer his question because I can't remember it.

"Bella?"

"What?"

"What happened?"

He looks ready to fight…defend my honor or something.

"I…saw a mouse," I say.

More thunder. Edward breaks out laughing.

"You better get that grass cut," I warn.

"You going to be alright or do I need to call an ambulance."

I pull away from his hand a little and he lets go.

"I'm fine," I say.

"Okay. Well, after I'm finished…or the rain finishes me…I'll come over and help…if you want me to."

I never thought about it one way or the other. Billy won't like it cause he doesn't even want me in there and I'm practically family. I think I am.

"It will be okay," I say.

I turn and walk stoically into the house. How do I do it…walk stoically? I just imagine a stick up my ass and I take off.

Billy is watching television. He doesn't even look up. I do a quick scan of the floor.

"He got a shirt?" he asks, so I guess he's had the ambition to have spied on me and Edward on the lawn. All he had to do was turn his head so it's entirely possible.

"He's mowing," I say.

I abandon the living room, and tackle the bathroom. Billy has yelled at me, told me to get out of there, but I've ignored him. I'm wearing some rubber gloves I found under the sink but even these gross me out. I've gagged a couple of times, but I'm hanging tough.

So about a half hour in I hear Edward talking to Billy. I can't imagine what he's saying, something about sports. They talk for a minute and Billy calls for me.

"I'm coming," I say cause I'm in the shower stall, scrubbing the last of the gray film off the floor with some old toothbrush. I should get some kind of heavenly reward for this. Something.

When I think I've finally got it looking decent I take the big bottle of bleach I found in the basement, don't even get me started on what it was like going into that chamber of horrors, and pour a final coat over the floor. I turn on the cold water and the fumes about gag me. Once it's rinsed a little I peel off the big yellow gloves and throw them in a bucket and go in the hall.

"Wow," Edward says.

"That bad?" I ask, cause I guess I'm sweaty.

Edward has thrown on a shirt, a white T-shirt as usual. It's not overly clean either. The rain is finally here.

"Oh there it is," I say pointing at the living room floor and the mouse that just ran under Edward's chair.

"Where," Edward says. He's up like a shot, grabs a magazine off one of the piles and rolls it. No sooner does he do that the mouse shoots right in front of his feet. He tries to stomp on it but it's too quick.

It runs toward me in the hall and I scream and run to the bathroom and shut the door. I can hear Billy laughing through the wood, and Edward grunting in the hall and cursing. Then a big laugh, a, "You see that?"

And Billy laughing. "He's in there!"

Edward is across from me, in the kitchen now. "C'mon Mickey, c'mon you little asshole, show those beady eyes," he's saying.

I crack the door and see Edward crouched a little holding the roll, turning slowly around.

I widen the crack, stick my head out, look down the hall and run back into the living room. At least the thing is in the kitchen now. Billy says how that little mouse is more afraid of me than I am of him. Like that helps.

Then we hear commotion in the kitchen and Edward stomping around, slapping the magazine, cursing. I am standing on the chair screaming.

Billy is laughing. I haven't heard that in a long time. Just a little on game night, but not as much as this.

Edward comes out of the kitchen holding a dead mouse by the tail. I think I'm going to faint.

"Don't bring it in here!" I yell.

I hope he's not the kind to tease because I'm not just being dramatic.

"Need some exposure therapy for that massive phobia Swan?" he says looking plainly evil.

"No!" I yell.

"Oh. She can sure talk up a storm when she wants to," he says.

Billy says, "Tell me about it."

"Throw that thing away Edward!" That was just like Renee would say it in the classroom.

"Alright. Calm down." He goes back in the kitchen.

"And wash your hands!" I say.

"Yes ma'am," he says.

I am so relieved I step down on the floor and pat over my fluttering heart. "Thank God."

Edward is in the hall. "Um Bella, you might want to get back up there. One just ran between your feet."

I am back in the chair with one leap. "Are you lying?" I scream.

But he isn't. I stay in the chair and scream while Edward chases down and kills five more mice.

Calling him a hero doesn't even begin to cover it.

We are on our way to the store. The rain has let up but more is coming. It's so gray outside it's sucked all the color out of the grass.

I am worn out. And I look like a hillbilly. I feel like one. We are going to Wal-Mart for mouse traps and drapes.

It's a weird combination but we pretty much live out of Wal-Mart. It's our general store and we are the coal miners in her debt. Well not me, but I imagine a lot of folks are. But Mom would owe our souls if I didn't pay it off at the end of the month.

Screaming at rodents has broken me down. Edward has taken all my power now. He is the one. I have shown him my weakness in such an unvarnished way I am no longer protective of myself as a person. I have no dignity, possibly no self-worth. I'm giddy and talkative. I can't shut-up.

We've been laughing and yelling. It's like we're drunk. "I swear he hasn't laughed like that since the nineties. His whole life is there. I swear," I say, repeating myself, embarrassing myself, but I don't really care.

Well I've been running off, diarrhea of the mouth, and that analogy comes out of cleaning Billy's bathroom, and even the word analogy has 'anal' in it.

I don't even know who I am anymore. Maybe I never did.

"A girl as brave as you afraid of a little mouse?"

"Six! Six!"

"They had an apartment complex in there in those magazines and newspapers."

"All the way back to the nineties! Did you look?"

Edward and I are close now. Band of Brothers. With one sister, me. I was the coward and he was the hero. I can never redeem myself for deserting him. He loves it, I think.

At the store we have a blast. We look through the various methods of mice removal—no-bait traps, no-kill traps, enclosed traps, sticky traps, poison in bars or pellets. "Get a couple of each, each thing so if they figure out one, there's something else."

He thinks that's a waste of money. "You are fear-driven on this, Swan. Not rational." He knocks on my head, but it is a soft knock and he tugs my messy pony tail. And I am looking at him cause he is looking at me.

"What?" I say.

"Nothing," he says, but we look a little more and he rubs his thumb on my cheek and I blink but I don't move. "You've got a smudge…," Edward says.

I have to say something so I tell him this store is crawling with mice, too, because I knew a girl who worked here once, before they made it a super store and she said every time they moved a shelf, mice took off running in every direction.

Now I was so grossed out I wanted to take off running out of here. So I prance around a little and make a noise cause I'm feeling so crawly.

"That ain't true," he scoffs like I'm a sucker for mice stories.

We settle on sticky traps, but that makes me want to scream, the very idea of some mouse flailing on one of these traps. I couldn't bear it I don't think.

"You scrubbed that bathroom with a toothbrush and you can't look at a little mouse?"

"Those mice were not little," I correct. Billy had some big fat mice squatting in his living room.

The drapes take longer. I just don't know. I am bent over, holding beige drapes in my hand, but it's a loose weave and I know he won't want people to see in. He's got that cop-paranoia.

Edward walks his fingers across my back and I nearly scream, and I do that dance again and make noises and he laughs.

A woman goes by and says to another, "Newly weds." And they laugh.

Well that shuts us both down for a minute, and we gawk at one another, me and Edward, then I hold up the package of drapes and we laugh.

Newlyweds? We must look like we're in phase one or something.

We settle on some tightly woven beige curtains with a white lining. They cost a little more but I'm thinking they'll be the ones he'll like. No, he likes the filthy rags I took down today. So I can't listen to Billy.

On the way home, we can't be this close to the shelter and not drop in and say hello. So we go there and Edward learns the Golden Retriever was adopted out that morning. He's a little sad, or surprised.

"You were thinking about adopting her yourself?" I ask.

He says no, he wasn't really. He said it didn't bother him so much.

I have to see the three amigos, the lab brothers, Dusty, Lucky and Ned. I tell Edward this. He asks which is which and I pick each one out.

"Sure they're not the Three Stooges?" he says cause they go wild thinking we're there to walk them, and they are desperate to get out of here.

I have this idea. I'm not ready to get another dog, but maybe I am. "There's one for Billy, one for me, one for you."

Edward has been petting these dogs through their gate. Now he stands up and looks at me like he is seeing the crazy in me plain as day. "Billy can't handle a dog. He doesn't even get out of that chair from what I saw today. And I'm not thinking of getting a dog. Not just any dog."

"Ned's not a just any dog," I say.

"You mean Moe?" he says. "We'd be bringing three dogs onto one neighborhood street. The noise alone, the shit alone, the chaos. We'd be volunteering for it. Billy would kill you if you brought him this hyper dog. These guys are all hysterical."

"They're in a cage! If they could have a yard and move around, chase birds and stuff, they'd be normal."

"They've never been normal," Edward says, but then he speaks baby-talk to Ned/Moe while he rubs its frantically sniffing, snuffling nose.

"They smell those mice on you," I say.

Edward laughs. "They do not. I washed my hands."

"You used Billy's soap, that cracked white bar with the black flecks on it, didn't you?"

"Yeah, don't say it. Been there since the nineties. Man, even his soap is retro-disgusting," Edward says, and we laugh like crazy over that.

"He's so cute," I say, meaning Ned as five minutes later he eagerly hops in the cab of my truck and starts sniffing over the seat. Edward and I get in each side and slam our doors.

"He's just glad to be away from his brothers," Edward laughs, then to Ned, "Aren't you buddy? I know what you mean, brothers are nuts and gettin' locked up is fucked up, huh Buddy."

I don't say anything and Edward swallows hard, but Ned between us means a tail in my face, and a nose shoved in his. He laughs a little and makes Ned get on the floor by his feet. He's talking to him, calming him down and stroking his black fur. Edward shoots me a look and I'm just looking back. But I don't say anything, I just drive.


	18. Chapter 18

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 18

Edward insists on keeping Ned with him while I return to Billy's and try to get enough order to call it a day. He's so stubborn about it. "You're welcome," he says as I'm walking away.

I still haven't opened the new file Jasper sent me.

I finish putting all of the old magazine and newpapers that line Billy's walls in the trash cans. I make Billy a couple of sandwiches and wash the filthy picture window and put the new drapes on the rod. Then I put some sticky traps around and try not to lose my nerve.

Well Billy isn't happy about it. He won't say anything, but he's not yelling about it either. After I put his food on the tray I say, "See you tomorrow," and he gives me a little speech about not needing to come over everyday.

"I'm going to chip away at it and it's going to take me a while."

"I don't want that," he says, his voice so thick and heavy.

"I'm going to do it because it's the best thing."

"Hell it is. This is my house."

"Well you can have it, so you know." Then I use Edward's deal, "Oh and you're welcome."

That's our goodnight then. I run across the street and I can hear Ned barking in Edward's backyard and it feels like so much life coming from Freida's, it just keeps…growing like seed in good soil, growing….

Mom is already home.

"You at Billy's?" she says, feet on the coffee table. There are two new cans of paint on the floor near her. "Gonna start on Edward's living room tonight," she says, lift of her chin.

"He know?"

"Of course. He's supplying the beer."

That throws me a little. I don't know why. I have no claim on him, on his time at all. But he didn't mention it-painting. Beers with Mom.

"Alice is coming to help. You should too."

And Horny. Beers with Mom and Horny.

We look at one another.

"No thanks," I say quick. I have too much work and anyway, I'm not doing that.

I look in the kitchen to see what produce I need to cook up before it goes bad. There's some eggplant I need to fry so I do that and as I'm finishing Edward is at my backdoor with Ned. "Bella can I use your truck? I need to get this crazy dog some food."

"I got some," I say because I do still have some from King. I get that out of the pantry and Edward thanks me. He wants to pay and I say no.

He asks me what I'm cooking. I open the door for him and Ned. "Come in and eat," I say.

"I can't eat with you again," he says, but I want him to. I don't get tired of him for some reason.

"This is pity…right?" He's saying that, but Ned decides for him and enters, nose to the floor.

I can't pet him because I'm cutting up salad.

Mom calls Edward from the living room and Ned goes in to say hello, and Mom screams. Edward hurries in there he yells at Ned to get down.

So there's some chaos then and Ned comes slinking in to the kitchen and goes under the table and lays there, his tail beating the floor with a couple of nervous thumps.

Mom is talking to Edward about painting. He seems to know about it. I wonder why he didn't tell me, but he doesn't have a reason to.

They seem friendly so I guess there are no hard feelings over the way she turned on him at the restaurant. I am relieved and sorry at the same time. I don't know why people give Mom a pass sometimes. Well Charlie didn't. Not in the end.

Edward is back. "Can I have a piece of that?" he means the eggplant. I get a plate and hand it to him. I fill it for him so he isn't confused. Pretty soon I'll have salad. He pulls out a chair and sits right where I'm working. Ned gets on his feet, nails clicky on the tile. He is sniffing toward Edward and sticks his head out from under the table. Edward speaks sternly to him. "You already had all my baloney." Ned lies back down and his tail thumps again.

"You tell Billy about him?" The eggplant is hot but that doesn't stop him from burning his mouth to take a bite. I get a bottle of water from the fridge and set it on the table. He breaks the lid and chugs. "Thanks," he says when he sets the bottle. "This stuff is amazing."

He digs right into another piece and the steam breaks between the meat and the batter, but that doesn't slow him down. His lips are shiny and he's chewing fast, sips water and smiles at me. He has a piece of batter on his lips and his tongue goes there. Sheesh I'm staring.

"You like to see people enjoy your food," he says like he just figured something out. But he hasn't figured out anything.

I finish the salad and mix dressing and he watches while he eats and I mix the food and fill another plate for him and set it there. He hums when he digs into my salad. He rolls his eyes. "Oh man," he says, and I hold on to the back of a chair and it's so much fun to take care of him, to feed him. Ned is licking my feet.

I squeal a little and step back quick and laugh cause I'm still creeped out from Billy's. I squat and scratch Ned over and he rolls onto his back and groans.

"You just stold him from me," Edward says. "He can't resist you, Swan, he's male."

I look up, and Renee is entering the kitchen. I see her briefly. She looks at me and goes to the drawer and digs out a cigarette. I hadn't realized they were in there. I'll be throwing them out later.

She lights a smoke and blows the haze over the table where my food sits. "Sure you don't want to start tonight?"

"Thanks, but no. Not with this wild beast around. Figured paint fumes wouldn't help. I have to get him calmed down," Edward says. "Let me know what I owe you for the paint though."

I look at him. Guess he's not thinking Ned is for Billy. That's what I hoped, that Edward would fall in love with him and that would be one down for the amigos.

"Want to go with me and Alice and meet a couple of the locals for a drink? Well we meet there, at the Longbranch. Time you got out of the house maybe?"

He's been out of the house, I want to say. He's been with me—Farmer's Market, park, Wal-Mart and the dog shelter. Church, not that it was my idea…the diner and that embarrassment. But he's been out. Now that she's on the scene she thinks it's the only thing that counts. The Longbranch? I'd have to go in drunk.

Edward is wiping his hands on a napkin. "Maybe I'll come by later," he says, looking at me, and I look away and keep scratching on Ned who is putting his big paw on my leg like I need to keep going. Edward gestures toward the dog again. "Traitor."

"Suit yourself," Mom says dousing the nasty cigarette in the sink. "Don't wait up, kiddo," she says to me as she exits the kitchen.

Like I ever do.

I wash my hands and get a plate. Ned is right at my feet now, tap dancing along as I try to walk. Edward rebukes him, tells him to get over by him. Soon as Ned is close Edward pushes him back under the table and tells him to stay. When I sit down Ned's head is in my lap right away. Edward pushes his chair back and looks under the table and he pulls Ned away. He's trying to get him to lie down. Ned whines.

"Told you he wouldn't be able to resist you," Edward says.

Well, my privates anyway.

I'm trying not to burn my mouth as I bite and chew the hot food.

"You ever eat meat?" he says.

"Sure," I say. "I like…meat. Fried chicken?"

"Oh yeah. But maybe we can get a steak…tomorrow night. I can't be eating your food all the time."

Whatever. Feels like compensation to me. He wants to go to the Longbranch, he'll be the steak. If that's what he wants have at it.

"How about it? A steak? Know where to get one?"

I shrug as I eat. Ned is back and Edward fusses at him again, makes him lay.

I will be up much of the night tackling Jasper's file. That's after I walk. And tomorrow…Billy's house. I have the garden to pick tomorrow to get ready for Wednesday's market. I can't start going out. There's no room for that. Drinkers, stinkers, winkers, tinkers, shirkers, lurkers, mother fucking twerkers.

"I don't know," I say. "Billy…."

"I'll help you with that…tomorrow."

"You will?"

"Yeah. You get some of the stuff around…for the critters?"

"Yes." I shudder.

"You just get a hee-bee?"

Maybe I did. I smile and keep eating.

When it's time to walk he is on the porch with Ned. Pastor Aro has come calling just like I knew he would. Edward sees me, but he doesn't wave but he looks at Aro, then at me. He wants to watch me and it fills me with two kinds of dread, one that he'll catch up and want to walk with me, and two that he'll get tired of watching me and he'll want to watch something else…someone else.

His hands are in his pockets and Aro has his back to the street and he's talking away and Ned runs around the side of the house and sticks his nose right where the sun don't shine on Pastor Aro and Edward yells, "Oh shit," then I hear him telling Aro he's sorry and I just keep on going cause it's the funniest thing.

And I think of how much I've laughed today. A lot, that's for certain.

I take my time and do patrol right. I touch the bricks at the corner of the rental, shine the light three times back and forth in the yard. I signal to Merle and he answers. He wants me to wait. I do and he comes onto his porch wearing striped pajamas, a silky bathrobe and slippers. He looks right out of a black and white movie.

"Bella…I wanted to speak with you first. Sit down."

I sit on the top step and Meryl sits on the metal chair.

"Donna is coming down first of next week. We're thinking of moving into assisted living in Florida."

"What?"

"Pearlie…it's warmer…and we'd be closer to Donna…and I'd have help."

"I…you didn't tell me."

"You've done…do enough. We couldn't have lasted this long without you and Leah. But…it's time."

"You're alright, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I'm going to be eighty, Bella. Things aren't what they used to be kid."

I don't know what to say. He just threw a hand-grenade at me.

"I know you'll think this is some failing on your part, I know how you think, but it's not anything like that."

What else could it be? I'd met Donna once or twice over the years. Donna is a root vegetable. "You can't just…I mean your friends are here."

"Yes and it hurts to leave them. But I have to do what's best for us. It's not fair to put more on you girls."

"Leah and me…we're all…."

"Bella, listen to me. We stayed an extra year because of you girls. But time doesn't stand still. Sometimes I wish it did, or at least dragged its feet a little, but the truth is, time is never stuck…even if we are."

I don't know why he's saying this. He's so damn philosophical about everything. I already knew I'd stayed…was stuck. I knew that. But there was no where else…no one else. Places didn't pull me…people did. People were my geography…my better lands…my uncharted waters…my familiar terrain. People.

But I can't say this. I just now figured it out.

"We'll visit," I say.

"Bella," he whispers. He shakes his head. "If I could leave here believing that…it would make it so much easier."

"We will," I say firmly.

Later, I knock on Leah's door. She is sitting in the living room working at the coffee table on her macramé. Sometimes she brings these to the market. They are always one of a kind. Sometimes, she gets an offer and refuses to sell. Her cats sit around her. And her little dogs.

"Stop checking on me," she whines. She is in her pajamas.

"You baking?" I can smell it, but I ask anyway.

"You know I am."

"Alright."

It's a relief to know the wheel has turned and she's coming out of the black hole.

I don't know if Merle told her. If he did, he told her first and that bothers me. If he didn't…I want to…tell her. But then it's not mine to pass along. So I stand there.

"What?" she says and I know she wants me to leave because she's only in the mood for people sometimes.

"You ever feel stuck?" I ask.

"What in fuck?"

She's watching Dr. Who.

"When do you want to start cutting pumpkins?" I ask instead.

"I don't know. Not for Wednesday. Maybe Friday."

I leave then.

As I walk down Billy's side of the street, I make sure to pay attention but my heart feels heavy, my feet too. When I get to Billy's I notice how much better the window looks with some of the grime off and the white backs of the new drapes, but I haven't quite gotten them closed in the middle and a thin slice of Billy's life is right there. It's dark but for the blue light of the television flickering, and I picture him sitting there, eyes glazed over as he watches the big box, mice sitting around and on his sandwich, whiskers twitching as they chew. I have to go back in there tomorrow.

I have to. He's drowning.

Across the street I already know Edward is still on his porch. Ned has tried to bark, but I hear Edward fussing at him.

I keep going.

I go to the end of the street, cross and come back up. When I get home I can see Mom is gone. Edward approaches. He has Ned on the leash from the shelter. "Bella."

I stop at my gate and let him get closer.

"You think he could hang with you tonight? I was going to hitch a ride to the Longbranch."

I'm not in the mood to hear this. I take the leash.

"You want to come?" he says.

Yes, I want to come, and come and come. I may be a virgin, but I love orgasms, the sweeping satisfaction. But I rarely give myself one because it usually makes me cry. But he could give me one. If he touched me, not just playfully, but really touched me…I would come, I would gush like black gold, Texas tea. The first thing you know…I'm a millionaire…ess.

"I have better things to do." I hold his gaze for a minute. I want to ask him why he's going, but I don't. It's not my business. Now he'll be hung over. He won't be there to help me with Billy's. I don't care. Some other lonely sucker will grind all over him while the juke box plays. Shit, I hope it's not Mom.

Really, since when do I need him or anybody? Let them all leave, go their own ways.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

I take the leash, or try to. I'm holding it under his hand. He won't let go.

"Okay," I say, releasing it. "I have work to do." I push my gate.

"Wait a minute." His hand is on my arm. Watch it, I might come.

"Hey, what's the matter? I like Ned. I do want him back."

I pull my arm away. "Then give me the leash. I have to go, Edward."

"Bella, I just want to have a beer. Is that what's bugging you?"

"No," I protest too strongly. I grab the leash and walk Ned to my house.

"I'll get him in the morning then?"

I ignore Edward and go in.

I unhitch the leash and enter the kitchen to make Ned a bowl of water. King's dishes are still in the panty and I get his bowl and refuse to get sentimental about it. I can still feel Edward standing in front of the house. I'm sure he's not there, but I imagine he is outside just staring. Well what does he expect? I'm tired.

I gather all of the stuff I want to take upstairs and Ned follows me up, and his quick sloppy steps are nothing like King's well-coordinated ones had been, until the end that is. So we go in my room and I turn on the lights and close the door. I plop on the bed and Ned comes right up with me. I never let King on my bed, but if Ned wants to flop there, it's perfect. I don't know it's coming. I'm numb actually, but next thing I know I've fallen on Ned and I'm hanging on to him and crying my eyes out. I go whole years and don't cry, so this is ridiculous. But Merle and Pearlie. I won't see them. Their house…the light in the window. Merle and his quiet patience. I need him. I need Pearlie's flaming red torch. I just…need.

And I'm crying so hard I only think I imagine the first pecks…on the glass.

I scream out, holy shit and fall off my bed onto my ass and I'm peeking over the bed to my window. All I can think is someone is there, and that's so wrong I can barely let it register…it's Edward.

What in the world…the fucking world?

Ned is already there nearly tearing down my curtains. Edward is trying to fuss at him to behave, and I'm on my feet and this is too much and I charge there, and Ned stands down and I lift the glass. Edward is standing on the backporch roof. "Hey…it's me."

"You scared me!" I say. "I have so much to do and you're horsing around?"

Ned is glad to see him, and he's telling Ned not to bust out the screen. "Bella, can I climb in?"

"Are you nuts?"

"Yeah. Can I?"

There's so much I could say, but I unhook the screen and stand back while he fights off Ned and climbs in.

"Not too cool, huh?" he says, still petting Ned.

I don't feel any responsibility to agree with that.

"But you've been crying," he says. He takes a step toward me, a hand…I stare at the hand. "What's the matter? Is it me? Did you want me to go? I can stay…."

I sniff and hurry to my dresser for a Kleenex and wipe everything dripping.

He's behind me in the mirror. It's just shocking.

His hand is on my arm again. Whenever he touches me I have to work not to stare at his hand on me. Me.

"No," I finally say. I'm not ready to tell about Merle and Pearlie. I couldn't.

"What is it?"

I look at him in the mirror. "I don't know." But I do. But I don't.

"Hey…is there anyplace to go swimming around here?"

I am staring at him. What is this?

"At the park, where we…at the lake there," I say.

"Let's do it. Let's take a swim in the dark. Wouldn't it feel good?"

"The park closes at sundown."

"Yeah? So what? Ned wants to swim."

I have so much work to do. I haven't opened that file. "Just for an hour, then you go home and take Ned."

He's making the sign of the cross over his heart.

I send him downstairs so I can put on my suit under my clothes. I put my shirt and shorts back on because I'm not explaining the scar and I know he's seen me in my underwear, but I have to keep something between us because for a girl who is stuck the current is so strong against my legs I could topple if I don't get ahold of myself and be careful.

What am I doing? What am I doing?

I grab a couple of towels and in as many minutes we're in the truck on this fool's errand while my work gets stood up once again.

We don't say much. Every now and then an on-coming car breezes past, its lights cutting a slash over us like God has lifted the blinds and taken a look so he can shake his head and drop us back into the darkness…shit!

Even Ned is subdued as he rides with his head out Edward's window.

I have my hair in a braid and Edward has reached over to dig this out of its resting place between my back and the seat. He's holding this and moving his fingers over the ends.

Every now and then he ganders at me for too long, and I shoot him a quick look and he smiles and turns away like a middle school girl.

Once we get there he peels off his shirt and tosses it in the cab, and he's not a middle-school girl, oh he's not anything but magnetic and my eyes are metal buttons of lust drawn to his skin, his eyes…anything…him. He has kicked off his shoes.

Ned runs free, and that makes me nervous and Edward says, "He's alright. He knows his meal ticket now."

He takes my hand as we head to the water. We get there he says, "Take off your shirt at least, Swan. I did."

But I'm not going to do that. I have the towels and I toe off my shoes and lay the towels there and Ned barrels between us and splashes in to the water.

The lake has a sandy bottom here. It feels good on my feet. I'm a disgusting mess, and it's so pretty here and there's a breeze. Ned paddles around and we laugh but we don't whoop it up. Edward goes out and disappears and resurfaces. "Come out further," he says quiet, cause you can hear easily here.

I see his slick head, and I feel his eyes. I go back on the shore and take off my shorts. But I leave the shirt on. He watches me, but it's alright. I'm not shy and I don't know why.

I get in the water, but I'm not girlish about it. I just go in, dip in deeper and swim toward him. Ned wants to go further out to reach us, but he gets to us, circles around and swims back for the shore. He staggers out and shakes off and the water in the moonlight sprays off of him.

"Feel better?" Edward asks, treading water.

I do. I feel better. Not great, but this is good.

"Float on your back," he says. I do, and his hands are under me, and we move toward the shore and he stands and moves me in a big circle. I close my eyes, but not for long. I look at the murky sky, the sheer clouds that move quickly over the stars. Time…moving…everything…alive.

I look at Edward. He is so beautiful, hair slicked back, arms strong, hands against me, then his arms, holding me now, the way one holds a child, the way Billy held me when I was ten. He cradles me and he moves me through the water and he's looking at me, and he's near, I put my hand over his heart, and he's so far away.

He has gathered me closer still, has stepped into the water just enough to keep us where he seems to want us. He's holding me there. "Swear to God I tried to leave you," he says. "I got as far as Merle's and I couldn't take another step. It's like you had me by the suspenders and I just let go and snapped back. There was nothing to go to, unless I turned around. Then I knew what to do. I came to your window."

I take in a breath and it's loud and shaky.

"You cold?" he says.

I'm not cold.

He starts to sing, "She came in through the bathroom window," like he's one of the Beatles. He sings it barely moving his lips, and he's looking at me and we're too close for it to be right and easy to walk away from, like it never happened.

I don't know why I want to cry again. It's sweet, what's happening, but it spears me with something so sad.

He lets me cry a little. But I never get going. I won't let myself. "What's the matter?" he finally says, but I don't want to talk, so he sings a little Ethridge, come to my window, and it's low and he's watching me the whole time.

Once we get out, and maybe we never would if Ned hadn't started to bark at something. So once we're out he's holding my hand, and on shore, he turns me and I'm looking at him, and he takes the edges of my T-shirt, and I let him take it off. And his eyes go right there, to the place I'm marked above the swell of my suit top. "Bella," he whispers, his finger running in the shallow, gentle, and his eyes, "Bella."

It's who I am. But I don't share this. I know it might be ugly…to him…to anyone. But it's mine, and my definition of ugly is different from the world's.

"Baby," he says, and he's waiting maybe, I don't know. He looks from it to me again and again, and he's touching it the whole time.

I take my shirt from him and put it back on. I pull my braid free and pick up the towels and hand him one. He takes that and I wrap mine around my hips, then reach for my shorts and my shoes and I nod we should head for the truck, and I move because we can't stand here all night.

Maybe he thinks about the towel in his hand. He rubs it over his chest as he follows.


	19. Chapter 19

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 19

In the truck on the ride home we are quiet. Ned is drowsy, sitting on the floor between Edward's legs.

Edward has a hand on Ned, a hand on my shoulder.

I want to remind him…no pity. I want to say that, but of course I don't.

"I know it's yours…but it's not cancer?" he says finally.

"No," I say. Not breast cancer. He knows this. He's just circling. He's waiting for more.

"Are you going to say?" he asks.

I look at him briefly, shake my head.

"It's a wound. It's a fucking bullet," he says, "or a knife."

People get mad at other people's wounds…when they love them…or think they do. I want to remind him again…no pity. Pity is the cheapest form of love. And I'd welcome his hate over that.

So we drive quiet, his hand on my shoulder…there's nothing else but the way he touches me now. He holds on to me. What I know, he understands. I think he does.

When we get home, wet and tired, he comes around to my side. I am stepping in to my shorts. He watches. "You're twenty seven, right?"

I am staring as I pull my shirt over my shorts, leaving them undone.

"Come home with me. I'm not expecting…I want to hold you. Like in the water."

"Why?" But I know why…some of it. It's not right…and it's not wrong. It's me…it's him. He's telling the truth. I felt it back there, his arms, his hands…I felt it. I slam the truck's door.

"I…haven't held anyone…for a long time…kept someone afloat," he says.

"You mean me?" He's keeping me afloat?

"Come on."

"To have sex?"

He laughs a little.

"I have to know," I say because logic is surfacing. But logic doesn't work here. There is no logic for swimming at night, letting him see…when I hardly know him…when he lives next door, when I have so much to do. There is no logic I recognize here.

"To hold you," he repeats. He goes back to his side and lets Ned out. He slams the door. "Come on," he says. I can't see it, but I know Ned's leash is wrapped around his hand.

I put on my shoes. I look at the house. She isn't home yet. It's getting late…for a teacher's…aid. Edward stood them up…Mom…the others…and she stayed and tied one on. She showed him…maybe me. Mom.

"Come with me," I say.

"Renee and her bullshit, and you know it's bullshit," he says. "I'm not a kid." So he isn't going into my house. He's taking a stand.

"I'm twenty-seven," I say.

"Yeah. Come on."

I follow him and Ned. He wants to hold my hand, but I don't know. He overwhelms me, his need, all his looking.

"Hold my hand?" he asks. I don't think I should…but I reach for him and his fingers close over mine.

His house is dark except for a light in the living room.

"Bedroom's in there," he says.

I nod. "I know."

"You can take a shower," he says.

"If I went home I could get some things," I say.

"What do you need?" he asks.

I look down and he looks at me, "Right. A tee-shirt…um, the rest…yeah."

He is nervous I think. I'm not. I know I should be. I am worried about my work. "I need my laptop."

"If you go over there and she comes…."

"I need it. I have to work some…before I sleep."

"I'll get it while you shower. I'll get everything."

"Edward…what is this? I'm going home."

"In the morning," he says. "Go on if you need to. I was helping you, that's all."

"I'll be back, I promise."

"Shit," he rubs over his face, "I got no game." He laughs a little, but it's lame.

"Just come in," he calls. "I'll shower then. Just come in…when you're done…over there."

I don't answer. When I'm outside, walking away, I don't want to be. I look over at Billy's. Behind the new drapes…nothing has changed.

Once in my house, I run upstairs. First thing, I shower and shampoo my hair. I throw on a tee-shirt, underwear and sleep pants. I brush my teeth and put lotion on my face. It's my one effort at beauty. In my room I brush out my hair, braid it tight and tie it off on the end. I stick my feet in some soft shoes and pack up my laptop and cord.

I'm going down the stairs when she gets in, drunk. I knew I would run in to her.

"Where are you going?" she slurs.

"I'll be down the street," I say. I've slept at Leah's a couple of times when Merle was recovering from open heart. I needed to be where Pearlie could get me quickly.

"Where?"

"Leah's," I lie because she's too drunk to argue with.

That's all I say. I am out the door and down the stairs and I hear her open the front door, but I'm already out of her line of sight. I hurry to Edward's, and I'm in there quick, the door left open for me just like he said.

Ned tries to jump on me, but Edward is in the doorway wearing a towel. "Ned down."

I stand there, clutching my bag.

"Come on back," he says to me, walking ahead.

I make sure the door is locked, then I turn off the living room lamp and I follow Edward back to Freida's old room.

He is wearing these knitted black underwear, and he is stepping in to some sleep pants. They sit low on his hips.

"Make yourself at home," he says. I have slept in here many times, but I don't say. I just hope I don't suffocate in here…get weird and wake up not being able to breathe. It happens sometimes and for about ten minutes there's just no joy in the world.

But he switches on a small fan sitting on the dresser. "Sorry, I have to have the noise. Make yourself comfortable. I'm gonna lock up." Ned takes off after him and I am alone for a minute. I kick off my shoes and put my bag on the floor by the bed and dig out my laptop, plug in my cord in case I need it and I probably will. I am on top of the covers, back against the pillow propped on the headboard, knees bent and my laptop resting on my stomach and thighs. I spend hours in this position. He is still living out of a suitcase.

"Hope this doesn't bother you," I say when he enters, smiling to see me there like it's Christmas.

He smirks some but he doesn't answer. He closes the bedroom door, clicks the lock on the knob. Ned trips along, coming over to lick my arm and see if he can get in bed too.

"Ned, no," Edward says and Ned slinks off and circles a pile of Edward's dirty clothes a couple of times and thuds down.

Edward gets in beside me, stretches on his back, hands under his head. "Hey," he says to me.

I smile at him, and I'm pulling up the file already.

He turns on his side toward me, arm under his pillow, the other hand is folded very near me. I try to pay attention to what Jasper has written. He's thanking me for introducing him to Alice. Is he crazy? Yeah, he probably is.

"You're in my bed, Swan," Edward says, his green eyes very clear in the soft light.

I laugh a little. Then I go back to reading.

The hand that had been lying near me moves and rests on my foot. He takes hold of my ankle. "Your ankles are skinny," he says. "Delicate."

I take a quick glance at him but his attention is on my ankle or leg, I can't tell. I stare at the screen and reread my instructions. At least the first sentence. I reread that again. God, he's holding my leg.

"I have you…and Ned in here," he says. "It's practically a crowd."

He traces my calve muscle with his pointer finger. Just to my knee and back down. My mouth is open.

"I like your legs," he says.

"Edward…."

He pulls his hand back. "Did you like it…in the water…when I held you?"

I can't answer that. I can't possibly.

"I did," he goes on. "God…it felt so good. It's the best moment so far. In my life."

I am waiting for him to say more, to take it back. "Your whole life?"

"Yeah. I can't believe you're here. Every night…I think of you over there. I've wanted you here."

"Every night, Edward?"

He lifts his head and looks at me. "Every one."

"Why?"

"Kiss me. A goodnight kiss."

"Edward…I'm not…."

"I know. Just a kiss."

"I don't…kiss…people."

"One little kiss goodnight and I'll leave you alone."

"On the lips?"

"That's one of my choices."

I don't even know what that means. "Alright."

He gets up, on his knees, and puts his hand on the back of my head and he moves in slow, and licks his lips and I lick mine, and he presses his warm mouth on mine, and I grip the sides of my laptop, and I lift my face so he can get in there and get out, but once I feel his tongue move over my lips, my hands spring up on their own and cup his face.

He moans, and I hear the lid of my laptop shut when he moves up and over me, and I can barely think, but he takes my laptop and he moves over me, pulling me down some, then gathering me in to him, his hand all the way to my ass and a hard squeeze there and his face above me as he breathes in and kisses me with such all-out feeling behind it, I let out a long low sound and my leg wraps around one of his, and my hand moves over his back, against the smooth muscles that have made me want him…want him. I can't get enough, get close enough, move enough, moan enough. I have both arms around him now, and my leg, and with the other, raising myself, grinding into him, and he has his hand shoved down my pants and I hear a rip even as he pushes at them and my underwear, and he shoves up my shirt and I move anyway I can to help him free my skin to his eyes and his touch and God his mouth, and he kisses my scar, runs his tongue over the puckered gully, then over my nipples, and my stomach, and he kisses me between my legs, right there, and I lift my ass and dig my hands in his hair and dare to look at his head working over me there, his closed eyes and his attention, he is lost as he licks me, as he devours me like he needs me, like I am all there is, and I pant and respond to his soft relentless mouth, I come hard and I convulse, screaming his name, I am wild, and he holds me to his face, and the wet shatter stretches out long and powerful and he keeps going, gently endlessly moving his tongue and I come again, on top of the first one, deeper in my body this time, and I say his name on a whimper, a hot melt against his mouth, his tongue pressed there and I make sounds, new sounds, broken in a new way, an old way, God…God…oh God I am giving it to him…me. I am giving him…me.

And then I cry. Old tears under new tears. And he situates himself next to me. He gathers me, and pulls the sheet over me, and his hands, like on the water, he holds me and the tears, and his arms, and his chest, and he keeps me…he keeps me…afloat.


	20. Chapter 20

Thanks are over-due. The Lemonade Stand, Edmazing for rec-ing this story and thanks to all who voted. Thanks for reviewing, PMing. Your words are my vitamins and minerals. I don't know what the heck I'm doing most of the time, but I just keep doing it!

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 20

I have never slept with someone, besides Freida…Mom, on occasion growing up and scared of the dark, or Leah, and then we stayed as far from one another as possible.

But this morning I wake up and I am caged by limbs, long, masculine, heavy, well-shaped, breathing, pulsing limbs. I am Hermione encased in Devil's Snare.

I do not want to move, because I can't compute.

Now the shortness of breath comes, the suffocation. I'm trapped. I bolt out of there, and I'm standing, and I'm in my tee-shirt and that's all.

He is looking at me. He has seen me, my state, oh it's in his eyes the serious, intense gaze at my naked lower half and I pull the shirt down in front but it's not quite long enough, so I stretch it to a point over my beave and with one hand beneath that I graze the hair there like I think it might have slipped off, and I'm looking at him, and I'm not moving. I don't know….

He laughs a little, well smiles…beams, and raises his head, not his eyes—he doesn't raise those I mean, but he supports himself with a hand, elbow on the pillow. "Look at you, Miss Bella," he says, looking…there…still.

It's not funny. He is so swollen with sleep, like he'd been so far under, and me…I am groggy as hell but this whole situation is like a caffeine injection, I am waking up. I am awake. I'm screaming inside.

I take a step to his bed and pull at the covers. My underwear, please God, please. I see them balled on the floor at the foot of the bed, and my sleep shorts, and I take a couple of awkward steps and I pull on the shorts, jump a little to get them pulled up and feel everything jiggles and he's not missing a thing I can tell you. So I just keep moving, I go to my computer bag, stuff my underwear in there first thing.

"No, no," he's saying, exploding out of the sheets toward me. "No, Bella, stay, stay with me."

He's got clothes on. All night he wore clothes and I…I….

His arms are around me, and I am soon against his chest, and he's warm, so warm and he's tall and he smells good and earthy, maybe like me, and he isn't taking my breath like before, now that I know what's going on. It's okay. It's good. Holding me, hands on me, smoothing over me…him.

"Come lie down with me…Bella?" He has some gravel in this morning voice, so deep, so filled with sleep, this lazy, voice that seems to know what we should do.

It has started in me, the spinning wheel of 'I gotta's.' I gotta get home. I gotta work. I gotta get over to Billy's. I gotta make sure he eats. I gotta finish cleaning. I gotta talk to Mom. I gotta make sure…I gotta make sure….

I am looking at him…maybe I could be lost with him, on that bed, floating there….

"Where's Ned?" I say, cause it's always this way, the words coming from the side of everything.

"I put him out early this morning." He's kissing me, under my ear, oh God…oh God. "You're tired. Let me hold you…one more hour. While you sleep. Let me hold you baby."

I remember the lick…the suck…the wild euphoric writhing the last time he 'held me, just held me.'

"I can't…I don't trust…you." I speak softly, as if I'm afraid of my own voice.

"Don't trust me?" I don't mean it like that. But I do. "Trust me," he says kissing down my neck, his lips so, so warm, so…so.

We're tumbling on to the bed and he is soon nestled between my legs and we are kissing, kissing, how have I lived without kissing…him? His thumb on my cheek as his lips pull at mine, as he does to my mouth what he did down below, he has this consuming way of becoming my world, of becoming the room, of becoming all there is…for me. He is so focused and I feel like there is nothing else for him…as well.

My shirt is up and he sucks on my breast, he eases off, the sound of his breathing as he looks at the nipple huge and red from the pressure, he looks at me and I love his face, his unguarded eyes and mouth and then he's back to sucking the other breast, he awakens pleasure from every dormant hiding place in me. I think I'll explode from the pressure of his mouth, sucking, and now the lower half grinding, him in to me and me lifting and writhing side to side, we roll finally and I am on top and I go to town then and I come again, and he pushes up against me as I do, and he's letting himself go with a sound, a deep sound, and I know he comes too, my hands on his face as he soars, and I watch him even as I pant my way down from where he's taken me again, he's closed his eyes, to come, but now they are open, looking at me, languid and sated, I see that. I don't know what all this is, this look.

What will we do now? What can we do? It's so fierce between us. It's takes hold…it takes…over.

"Bella," he says. "Bella."

I swallow convulsively. I need to look away. He is looking in to me. I am not strong enough to keep looking back. I…I feel so much. Too much. Always.

I leap off of him. Pull at the sticky shorts, pull them from the crotch. I am fumbling to gather everything.

"Where are you going now?" he says sitting up.

"Home," I say like he should know.

"Let's shower. We'll eat…." He is up and his hands…. "Bella. Bella. Don't run away. Let's be together. I'll help you. Whatever it is…we'll do it. Slow down."

I am clutching my things. "You can't do my work, Edward. Only me."

"Let's shower and I'll make us breakfast while you work."

I'm not sure…yes or no…I'm not sure.

"I will go home," I say.

"I'll see you in a few minutes, right? You go home then and I'll cook over there."

"You cook?"

"I can. A couple of things. I'm learning."

"Oh. Well…good-bye."

He laughs. "Swan…Swan…you make good-bye so final. It's like I'll never see you again."

I can't help it. Good-bye is a very final word. It's just the way I say it.

I pull away from him then. I am a mess. A stinking mess, truly, but he hasn't seemed to mind. He watches me, then he's there to help me unlock the bedroom door. He lets me out and he follows me. He reaches around and undoes the locks on the front door. He lets me out. He grabs my arm before I can leave. He kisses me. "A few minutes. I'll be there."

I just nod. I don't know what to do with him. But I'm figuring it out. I look back, on the porch, I look back. He's standing there…that grin.

"Watch where you're going," he says, "Swan."


	21. Chapter 21

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 21

Mom is already at work when I get home. I enter the kitchen and it has that sad silence of aftermath, scene of the crime…a broken cup on the floor, a coffee stain there. She's dropped her coffee. I lay my bag on the kitchen table and get paper towels and clean. If I told her it was hard, splattered everywhere, dried now and difficult to clean, unfair, a fuck you, if I said that she would laugh me off, say it was no big deal, get over it, in the scheme of life, in that, there is more, get your head up, she'd say. And there was a day her light skim helped me. But now, if I gave her a chance, I would go away, while she looked, I would pop into nothingness…and she wouldn't notice…hadn't noticed.

Every noise is magnified. I am looking over my shoulder for Edward. I don't want to meet him here, in this space. I don't know why. I've slept with him in Freida's house. I've slept there…with him. And now I don't want to meet with him here? I don't.

But I'm carrying him. He's…magnified in me.

I make sure the door is locked and I run upstairs and get in the shower, let the water hit me for a long time and the memories, the feelings, touched and held, exposed and weak…and strong.

I know a person's life should be on the inside, I know that. I don't know how it is for me, if what I do holds me together like spandex…contains me.

If more was inside me—more understanding, calmness, courage, if more was there…inside…wouldn't it hold me…even if something changed, something like…Edward? I don't know. It's a stupid question, the wrong question, but I don't have a better one, a louder one.

Just him. The memories, the feelings, touched and held…just him…with me…and through all of that…through him…I see myself…but I don't know her-myself.

When the water is tepid I shut it off. For a long time then I am stuck there, hands on the faucets, dripping, staring at the drain. Edward. Oh God. This won't leave me, won't wash off, swirl down the drain. This is…inside.

I can transport myself…to places…in my mind. I can be there…I can smell it…see it…feel it. I am with him, the look of him, eyes opened or closed…the want in him. The ferocious want. And the way he gives himself…and the way he devours.

I could live in his want…of me. I could get lost in it…a maze of mirrors…him looking at me from each one. I can't escape…his want.

I can't escape mine.

So I get dressed.

But I do not open my laptop.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Later, at Billy's, I plunge in, I don't say good morning. Billy is still in bed. I know where Jacob keeps the extra key so I've broken in, technically, but this is not the first time.

I've turned on the lights. Right away I see a mouse stuck on the trap in the corner, its legs still pedaling frantically. It's not the only issue I am avoiding. Edward was knocking on my back door when I got out of the shower and I never answered.

And I'd run over to Billy's once dressed, literally run. This is why what I've started with Edward is wrong. I'm in trouble.

So I just don't look there, the presence of the mouse somewhat dwarfed by my own problems. I go in the kitchen. The traps in here are still empty. I'll start at the sink.

My hands are in the soapy water when Edward knocks at the back door. I don't know how he knows to come here, but I open the door and go back to the sink. He carries a bowl and it's fragrant.

"Breakfast," he says. He sets the bowl on the table. "There's a broken basement window. That's how the mice get in," he says.

I don't answer. I'm thinking of what to do.

Then he tells me he'll be right back, a light touch on my waist and he leaves. I think he is going for Ned. That is my guess. But I heard in his voice, the serious thing, the question.

I take the new dishtowel off the bowl he's brought over, and it's eggs and cheese on the top and tomatoes cut up.

I call Billy. If I can get him up that will be all I need to hide behind…from Edward.

Edward is back before Billy is up. He knocks and I say to come in. I am back at the sink scouring a fork.

"I brought paper plates," he says. Those are under his arm, and he carries the two buckets of paint Mom bought him. "Is Billy still in bed?"

"Um…yes." Scour, scour.

"Well…you want to eat?"

I do. I just now realize I'm starving. "Okay," I say, and the table is full of mail, opened and unopened, and two fly-specked salt shakers. It's not a place where I want to sit and eat, and it puts us close and facing one another, knee to knee, eye to eye.

Billy comes out of the bedroom, using a crutch. He is in a T-shirt and boxers. He looks at us, mostly at me, shaking his head.

"Morning, man," Edward says.

Billy goes in the bathroom.

I know he feels invaded.

Edward digs in. I stack the mail, serious looking to the left, junk to the right. I take the junk pile to the trash and sit back down in front of my food. Then I take a bite.

"What do you think?" he says. But when I look at him, the question is bigger. It's about the sex…it is for me…what we did. What do I think? Which time…when you were licking between my legs or when I had my epileptic fit all over you while I…while you…?

So I just nod and I keep imaging his face when he was…when he was….

"Swan?"

I've had my eyes closed.

"Think he'll let me paint his living room?" He looks around. "Shit this needs it too."

"You," I have to clear my throat, "…you ever panted…oh no…painted before?"

He laughs. "Like cherry tomato?"

He does laugh then, and I have to smile. Hardy-har. And now he's giggling. I know it's girlish, but it's not on him…it's kind of adorable.

"And you're being weird," I say.

But he's not. I am…I am weird. But I'm nodding like I have real speakable thoughts in my head and he only has to wait and I'll cough up a nickel's worth of wisdom. "Just do it," I say, like Nike. Then I rush to clarify, "Paint."

More laughing. Oh so predictable. Then he says, "You mean…don't ask him first?"

I smile now like I'm about to burp real loud and wave a mug of beer around and yell, "We fighting men of the Flagaroon don't ask!"

But I say, "Don't ask."

"Yeah," he says, that deep eye contact he can make so easily, "some people…they don't like a lot of questions."

"You don't," I blurt in case he means me.

He looks a minute and smiles like he's taking a dare. "What do you want to know?"

I eat quietly for a minute. "How you bought Freida's."

"Cash," he says, clever. He forks a mouthful, he chews, still smiling.

"Why Freida's?"

"Fresh start…like I told you." He says this, like an umbrella he pops open to keep off the rain. "I always wanted to live north. My real estate agent sent me the ad. I decided quick."

"Were you in trouble?"

He has to take a big bite now. He has to chew, lick his lips. "No. I'm not in trouble. I'm…out of trouble."

"Something happen at your school, with your job?" Why can I only think he was involved with a female student? What else do male high school teachers do that they have to leave town over?

"No. Nothing like that."

"You…ever been locked up?"

He laughs. "No jail time," but there's something a little off in his answer.

Maybe I've hurt his feelings? Or maybe he's mad, like before when I read his palm…without his palm of course.

"I only have today…the present…that's why it's a gift or something." He laughs.

What does he mean repeating these broken bits of slogans…does he mean any of it?

"Brothers?" I say.

Now he does miss a beat. Looks down at his plate. "Only child, remember?"

"Yeah. It's something you said…."

"To a dog," he interrupts. "I was talking to a dog."

So he knew…I knew. He had looked at me when he'd said it…to Ned. But people told dogs the truth. I did. Except when I had to have King put down. I didn't tell him until right at the end. That was my first and only lie.

"He's in Witsec," Billy says, suddenly emerging from the bathroom. He about gives me a heart attack. I have to start listening for more than Edward's voice.

Edward turns to face him. "I'm not in Witsec," Edward says…like vehemently.

"The hell you're not," Billy says. He leaves then, stumps to the living room.

"Are you?" I say again. It makes perfect sense. "You're in Witsec."

"No," Edward says again, two hands on the table.

"What dog is that?" Billy calls from the living room. If he can see Ned, then Ned must be out of the yard.

"Son of a bitch," Edward says and he runs out the back door.

I run to the living room…well I walk damn fast. "Did you call Juney or something?"

Billy doesn't answer right away. He's in his recliner again and he's craning his neck to watch Edward chase Ned all over the place trying to get him back in the yard.

"Billy…did Juney tell you this?" A million thoughts are running through me. I'm trying to look calm. I'm trying to think but so much is rushing at me. I don't even know his name.

"No," Billy says still not taking his eyes off of Edward. "You Google him yet?"

Well maybe I had, but nothing really showed. Nothing at all actually.

"It's an alias," Billy said in this thin voice like he could barely be bothered to move his lips he was so engrossed in Edward's cursing as he tried to corner Ned.

"Okay Ironsides," I say folding my arms. He's speculating.

He laughs at the name.

"Leah," I say, happy to throw her under the bus. "Sorry."

He's shaking his head. He picks up his paper then. "Give me some of that stuff John Doe brought over."

"Just so you know, Edward," or whoever he is, "is painting in here today."

That did wipe some of the smug smile off his face.

I walk blindly back to the kitchen, see the food there he's prepared, and everything he's said and done rushes through my mind and in this new Witsec frame it's like I'm seeing…him…for the first time.

Who is this man who's given me orgasms?


	22. Chapter 22

Thanks to Deb at Bookish Temptations for reviewing this story. Thanks to Sunflower Fran for giving me a heads up. So much kindness. I don't know my posting schedule this week as I've had some stuff crop up and I'll be traveling, but I plan to write all the time. See, I write ALL the time, even when people (I live and work with) think I'm not writing…I AM! So just know that. It's always on its way.

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 22

I worry that Edward won't come back…into Billy's. He has dragged Ned around to Billy's yard and is in the process of penning him there, running some water through the hose. I am taking Billy another plate of Edward's food.

"Doe can cook," Billy says receiving the plate with interest.

So I'm back in the kitchen scrubbing things when Edward enters all out of breath with Ned behind him trying to get in. Edward says no, very loudly, then he closes the door. Well he slams it.

I wonder if he wants to take Ned back to Barb. I hope not.

"He's impossible," he says to me, like Ned's a teenager caught smoking weed.

Edward goes to the mysterious door beside the pantry and yanks it open. The dank cellar air fills the room. "I'm going down there to find a paint brush and something to stop the underground rodent railroad." He says this like Scarlett at Tara, the clod of dirt in her hand. I mean he seems to be all about resolve right now.

"There's one in the living room," I say. "A rodent."

"I'll get it," Edward sings a little like it's always up to him to set things right.

He walks right past me. Is he really going to avoid the elephant caravan in the room?

"Yeah I am," he says to me, stopping by the refrigerator.

"What?"

"I just read your mind Swan. We are not going to talk about what Billy said."

"Can you read minds?"

"Just yours."

"Oh. What am I thinking right now?"

He smirks. "Maybe later," he says.

"I think you got some mixed signals," I try to deny.

"No," he says, shake of his head, and even the crap fluorescent kitchen light looks good dancing in his hair. He has brought it here. He has opened the can of worms and now what?

"Is it true?" I say, my heart accelerating.

"Hope so." He has this look, like he's inviting me and withstanding me. I can't tell which.

So I roll my eyes, "No…what Billy said. Is it true?"

"We're not going to talk about it," he repeats over-working the words…with those lips.

"I would never tell anyone," I say.

"Bella, he's a blurter. He could accuse me of anything. That doesn't mean I have to respond."

I suppose he thinks we are done with this. He goes down the hall to the living room and I go back to my scrubbing, and yes I have renewed vigor. He comes back in the kitchen, takes the trap outside, fights with Ned, comes back in swearing that dog is going back to the shelter today, only he says too-day. Then he is marching down Billy's rickety basement stairs. I hear him trip, curse, say he's alright and carry on with an occasional crash and more cursing.

Eventually there is hammering. No more rodents. It's so nice to have a man around the house.

When he finally emerges, paintbrushes in hand, I have thrown all the science experiments out of the frig. I am ready to talk, if he is.

"What?" he says as soon as our eyes connect. Then, "Nice gloves."

They're the yellow ones. "You'd tell me, right? You'd trust me?"

"What did I say?" he whispers, shaking those brushes at me. "I'm not going to be defending myself every time some rusty gear grinds another inch and he decides to spurt something…crazy. So just drop it, Swan."

"But you'd tell me?"

He shakes his head. "You want the truth," he says getting closer.

"Yes," I say thinly, licking my lips in case I'm about to be kissed.

"I saw your underwear three times. And I don't mean lately, I mean just what you think I mean." He smiles then, and it's kind of evil. "Changed my life," he says, smirking in the direction of my crotch. But when he brings those eyes back to mine…I dry gulp. Like we'd dry humped. Only that wasn't so dry at all.

He brushes against me as he leaves the room and I am effectively off topic.

111111111111111111111111111

Billy's kitchen was pretty clean when I left his house hours ago, no it was gleaming. I left Edward painting away. He and Billy were hitting it off. Billy was more talkative than I'd seen him in years.

When Edward had first gone in there to get the room ready for paint, Billy had told him he was a good cook. Edward said, thanks, and he was learning. Then Billy asked a lot of questions like, where'd you grow up, any military service? You were a teacher? What school was that? Edward said, "Look Billy, I appreciate your interest, but fresh start means just that. I'm not in Witsec and I don't want a rumor like that to get started. And we're not doing Law and Order, man."

So Edward was the one who brought up Witsec. Billy never said one way or the other if he believed Edward's denial. The answers to Billy's questions were vague, but Edward insisted he wasn't in the program. "You watch too much television, man," Edward said.

That's when I heard Billy's big-ass silence.

I made them both a couple of sandwiches and said I'd be going home to work and taking Ned with me. They were practically kissing over a mutual love of the Broncos when I slipped out.

So I have worked all day on my computer. Mom has been home for a couple of hours. She's called to me, but I haven't answered. Now I let Ned go downstairs and I ask her to put him in the yard. She says we have to talk and I say, "Not now, I'm working."

It's almost six when I hear Edward and Ned in my yard. I go to the window and Ned runs around and Edward throws a stick. Edward is paint splattered—it's even in his hair. He looks happy, rewarding Ned with a furious rub-down, like he's making up for yelling at him earlier.

Witsec would explain the loneliness, wouldn't it? But he doesn't look lonely now…he looks…happy.

I don't know how long I am there before he catches sight of me and waves. I wave back. He points at my garden, then lifts his hands in question. I know it needs picked. I know, tomorrow is the market. Then I hear the backdoor close and I see Mom in the yard making a beeline for Edward.

I lift the glass so I can hear. Mom draws near to where Edward waits, hands at his sides, fingers curled. If this was the Wild West he'd have the six shooters right there on his hips. Too bad it's poo-dunk Michigan.

I hear her say to Edward, "Bella didn't make it home last night."

I hurry out of my room then, down the stairs and through the kitchen, out the door. Ned is happy to see me. He runs wildly to me, barking.

Edward rebukes Ned. He pats his leg for Ned to come and Ned pretends to, then circles back to me.

"Mom," I'm saying, "what are you doing?"

Mom's in her lounging dress. She's holding a drink, I don't know what. Her hair is done and she has on the jewelry that means a date. "Go in the house, Bella."

"What?" I have to laugh some. Go in the house? For real?

"C'mon," he says to me, "let's pick this thing."

"Did you hear what I said?" Mom repeats to Edward.

"About Bella? I heard." He turns to me, "Hey get the baskets."

"I know she was with you. I called Leah and she wasn't there."

Edward shrugs. He goes to the tomatoes and starts to fill the front of his shirt.

"You think I'll sit by while you take advantage of her?"

"Of Bella? C'mon, Renee. I'm not getting in the middle of this." He smirks and shakes his head while he keeps picking.

"Mom," I say, "that's enough. You need to go in the house."

"He's taking advantage. I told you this would happen. You've got a crush on him and he's using you," Renee says.

"Hey," Edward says, his shirt full, "get the baskets, Bella." Then to Mom, "Renee…I'm not using Bella. That's bullshit and you know it."

I don't want to leave. "You get the baskets," I say to Edward. "They're right inside the back door."

He looks from me to Renee and he goes for the house.

I am looking at Mom, wanting to throw something at her, some vegetable, for saying Edward is using me. That's so embarrassing and…she has no idea how I feel. "Mom go inside." When she gets going she doesn't listen. No matter what she keeps going.

"You're being such a fool," she tells me. "Did you have sex with him?"

"Mom!" I yell. "You're…just stop."

She takes off toward the house and Edward is coming out now, his shirt empty, one basket already weighted in his hand.

Mom gets close to him. "I called Juney about you. There's something on you. You don't just come to a place like this, just show up. You think because we live in a small town you can exploit us and we won't know? Buster you're nothing new. This world is full of conmen and sinners. I could see it on you first day but I was willing to give you a chance, had you over to our house, tried to help you out. You knew she was vulnerable and you went right for her."

"Renee," Edwards says, "Renee…I don't want trouble. That's the last thing I want. I don't mean harm to you or anyone here. Especially Bella. Did you talk to Billy or something…have a neighborhood meeting? Cause this little fairy tale you've got going is fucked up."

"Juney said we should keep our distance until we knew you better. He said he'd drive by here more often, too."

"Based on what, Renee? I'd really prefer you didn't call the cops and put me in a bad light." Then he looks at me, "We're living the X-Files! Is this really your mother, or an alien posing as your mother?"

Oh, it's my mother.

"You stay the hell away from Bella," Renee says. Now she's bar-mom, toughest gal in the place.

"I'm not one of your middle school students, Renee. I'm sorry you're upset about whatever, but that's more about you than me."

He walks to my garden then, hands me the other basket.

"I'm so sorry," I say.

And even though I can feel his anger he touches my chin with his knuckles. I'm trying to get out of my head, I really am. I'm not like him, able to come back so honestly and clever. Sometimes I feel so much I can't get anything out.

Mom throws her drink on the ground and pretty much yells, "More about me? You tell her how you put your hands on me that night at your house?"

"You nearly fell off a chair," he says, his face flushing red, then to me, "Bella she was standing on a chair to measure something and she started to fall and I put my hands on her."

"You couldn't get anywhere with me so you go to my daughter?"

Edward is looking at me. "Bella...no. No. I'm telling you…X-Files."

"Sure you'll deny it, your kind always do." Now Mom is looking at me, "Don't you be a fool, Bella. He's a snake charmer. He tried it on me too, but I know better. You can ask Alice, honey. She knows."

Edward looks at me and says, "Bella…." Whatever he was going to say dies in his throat.

There is no crash of thunder, no lightening splitting the sky, no rumbling earth under my feet. There is the sound of a loud engine stopping somewhere in front of our house, and Ned is still barking…but I just know. I have already decided.

So I shake my head. "Mom, go in the house. You're disrespecting Edward…and yourself."

I don't slap her, don't want to. But her face looks that way.

"Renee?"

We all look at the big man dressed kind of like a pirate and standing at the gate to our yard. It's his motorcycle I heard pull up. Mom will be straddling a hog again.

Ned goes crazy and Edward has to chase him and subdue him. I figure it's a great way to get rid of some of the adrenaline that must be coursing through him.

Turns out the pirate is Mom's date Jace. Like 'face' with a J, he says after Mom says, "Jack?"

So Mom turns in to someone else, and she takes Jace like face in to the house while she finishes getting ready and Edward and me…and Ned…are left in the garden of sin.

Edward is already trying to pick an eggplant.

"You need the knife," I say. I go there and saw the purple globe free from the stem. I put it in his basket. "You…you may be the first man to ever turn her down," I say, hoping to explain it some…her tantrum.

He nods. "Bella, I don't want to complicate your life. But I don't know if it's possible not to. What have I done to cause all this speculation?"

"You're just…you're you." I mean, I hope he's him…Edward. "You just can't…be ignored. I mean…look at you. You're…gorgeous…you're kind…you play the guitar…you…make great eggs…great…," I almost say "love", like 'you make great love,' and I almost have a heart attack to think I almost said that, "…and you're fearless…with the mice…and Billy's basement…and Ned…you chase Ned around and…keep him safe. And you stood the real test…pissed off Mom…and you…you shine…Edward. You're…polka-dotted…," I laugh because there's so much paint in his hair, but there are tears in my eyes and more pushing at the damn of my resolve to not let them through. He lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles.

"You don't feel that way…like I'm using you? God, Bella…."

"No." But there is a way I might feel that, if he is hiding something big, like who he is, but I don't want to think about it.

"Say it…whatever you're thinking right now…tell me," he says.

I'm looking at him.

"I'm Edward," he repeats, like he does read my mind. "Everything that's happened between us, every moment has been real. Do you feel that way too or am I imagining more…."

We've been holding hands but now we're closer and we have our arms around each other.

"I don't care what she says. I knew the whole time she talked…."

"I swear I did not make a play for your mother. God, that sounds so…wrong."

"In future, let her fall on her ass," I say.

"Lawsuit," he smirks and we laugh. "Bella…why is it like this with you two?"

"It's just…one day…and one day we were this."

"You don't have to tell me…I shouldn't have…."

"It's okay. She…I had trouble in school. I'm…different."

He seems to know. He's listening so intently.

"I'm smart…not boasting…just saying…."

He laughs and squeezes me a little.

"But in," I take a big breath, "other stuff…behind. I was. I…might still be…I don't know."

"Or care?" he laughs.

I smile and pinch his side. "Then…my dad. He…." I pull in a breath. No, I don't want to bring him into this too. "Edward," and I feel better calling him that because he's told me Edward is real and he is, I'm holding him, "…the thing is…I knew when she was talking…I knew…nothing will get in the way of us. Not from me. I…choose you. I…want you."

He stares. "Want me, want me?"

"Want you."

"Like…right now?"

"Like…all the time."

"You always want me?"

"Read my mind."

I am quickly wearing a helmet made from his hands. He closes his eyes. "Oh…yeah. You want me, want me."

I'm laughing and pretty soon he's holding me by the ass and I'm trying to climb up him, and we end up laying in the row, on the hay there, in between the eggplant and the peppers with Ned snuffling over us and Edward pushing him away and trying to rebuke him but we're kissing like this, the sun going down and the bugs kicking up a song, stretching out our limbs entangled, heartbeats banging out an enthusiastic rhythm. Are we in love?

"Edward…I'm sorry I didn't make her stop. I won't do that again…let her go on."

"It's okay, Bella. You know she has to control herself, right?"

"But she was hurting you."

"I'm not hurt. But you might be. You tried to tell her."

"She has no boundaries."

"Do you…with her. Do you like have some…limits?"

I don't know what he means.

"I mean," he says telepathically again, "where do you draw the line with her? Where do you say that's not okay?"

"It's not okay," I agree. "A lot of what she does isn't okay. I do try to tell her."

"I'm not trying to put you on the spot about it Bella. But it's hard to watch her hurt you. I get the feeling, I'm just another way she's trying to hurt you. You didn't come home…you got punished."

Right on cue we hear the motorcycle pull away. I picture her on it, her legs wrapped around Face. Prophetic.

"I don't know how to stop her," I whisper.

"Stop yourself," he says, the he squeezes me, but I don't squeeze back. I'm full now. Full and brimming over.


	23. Chapter 23

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 23

"You need to be away from me," Edward states once we finish picking the garden and stashing everything on my porch.

"Are you reading my mind?" I say. It's weird.

He laughs. "Like a book…a very thick book written in Russian."

"Russian?"

"Hard to understand…dark, dramatic themes fringed in icicles."

He stares at me for a minute. "You like that."

I do. This mind reading has got to stop.

Later, when I go past his house on patrol he is on his porch. I flick my light at him and to my surprise he flicks a light back. I do it again and so does he. I do it twice, he does it twice. I laugh then. And what's great he hasn't asked to walk with me and he doesn't follow.

The rental house is dark and creepy. But Merle and Pearlie are upstairs and I signal three and Merle signals back and I get choked thinking someday that light won't be there.

At Leah's I get more aggressive. She doesn't answer my knock, but I get the key and go in and her little dogs yap.

I still have the smell of straw on my clothes from lying in the garden with Edward. I can smell this on me as I stand near Leah's bed looking down at her. She hates for me to be this deep in. It's her sanctuary, and I'm the invader, but I never let that stop me, never have cause she's a rescue.

So I'm standing there, my flashlight off, a cat curled near Leah's head crabbing at me to back off. "Maybe you could visit them sometimes," I say.

"You know I won't." She's curled there, and her bare feet look so vulnerable.

I pinch her little toe. She claims it's the only little thing on her body. "Well…maybe we could go together."

She looks at me. "You're such a liar."

"Maybe…."

"Cut it out or I'm going to throw my clock at you."

"You have to do the market. I have to clean Billy's."

"No. I'm not doing it." She rolls on her stomach and buries her face in the part of the pillow the cat isn't on.

She's hopeless when she's like this, and she's this way more and more.

"What about the shelter? The dogs?"

"It's all in the kitchen. Even wrapped."

"Put it on the porch," I say tiredly. I never argue with a brick wall. Unless it's Mom.

1111111111111111111111111111111111

Why does Edward put up with me and my crazy surround…sound? I am looking at him as he plays his guitar on this Wednesday market morning. We are here, instead of Leah, because Leah, the homeschoolie, which is what we call each other instead of weirdo or moron, is still in bed.

So Edward seemed happy to come to the market. The Wednesday crowd is never as good as Saturday's, but it's usually a fifty-sixty dollar day if Leah bakes. Well worth our trouble.

With Edward along we pull in another thirty from his many ballads. Right now he's channeling a little Elvis, singing, "You ain't nothing but a hound dog." And Ned being along doesn't hurt. I am overjoyed to hear a lady ask if Ned is adoptable and Edward replies, "There's a lot of good dogs at the shelter needing homes, but Ned is mine."

"Ned's yours?" I say to him as soon as we're in the truck.

He rubs Ned's big head. "Yeah. He's my people."

I can't help it. I'm crying sort of, wiping wet eyes. "Edward…?"

"Yes Bella with the eyes like diamonds," he smiles, Beatles this time while he fingers my braid.

"I was wondering…well I think I'm ready to bring Dusty home."

"For real?" he says. "Two of these guys?"

I nod. I think so. "Ned misses them," I say.

"Them? Bella, three would be insane," he says. But he's smiling.

So we stop at the shelter and I give Barb the money from the market and Edward officially adopts Ned and I take Dusty. Lucky is so sad and wild he sends up the worst wailing noise.

"Don't worry," Barb tells us. "I'll put a couple of others in with him. He'll adapt.

I look at Edward but he's saying, "Bella stop looking at him." He means Lucky.

So Ned and Dusty are so excited to see each other we have to let them run around in the outside pen for a while. Ned is all worked up to be back here anyway. But Dusty filling his nose, well that is almost too much for him it seems. We let them work some of it off while Barb tells Edward about the expansion plans.

The dogs are calmer on the ride home, but all my 'I gotta's," are piling and Edward is telling me he's going to double coat Billy's living room.

So once home he takes the dogs, puts them in his yard. That frees me to make lunch. He knocks and comes inside and helps me finish chopping. He stirs the rice and I put it together with the meat and vegetables. We're a pretty good team.

I don't work in teams. I have, and I think then of all the teams…Freida…Billy…Merle…even Leah. I can work on teams. Now Edward. I'm not always alone. I never realized…I thought a team meant suffocation. And I thought of Mom. She and I were a team…right?

Not now. Maybe not ever? No, we were—a team gone wrong. We were something else now.

She came in late on the motorcycle, she let Face come in, and he'd stayed until two. She didn't usually do that. Just lately, and then because I knew she got too drunk. I should have gone down and made him leave. I'd done that before.

Oh God. Is that what she was doing for me? But it wasn't the same. I knew what I was doing…didn't I?

I almost went down to face, Face, but I remembered what Edward said—to stop myself. And I had.

So I left before she was up. And now, of course, she was gone. Was that all it was now…me wanting her gone? It seemed like ages…just last week I wanted her to watch Luther. Now? We were two people. I was letting go of her. I'd been hanging on, clinging to her. And I'd let go…some. How could I let go of her when she was circling the drain? I had to save Mom. That was my job.

Stop yourself. From what…saving my own mother? Saving her…saved me. Didn't he know that?

I had to know it. I had to figure it out and not let some stranger tell me….

He wasn't a stranger. I'd upgraded his rank. I knew it…inside…knew him…inside.

"Swan," he says gently taking the wooden spoon from me, "it's stirred. It's ready."

He looks at me, smiles a little. He sees it, maybe hears it. He says he can read it...my mind.

He lays down the spoon and takes me in his arms and sings, "Slow down, you move too fast. Got to make the morning last…just…."

And he has my hand, which he pumps a little, the other arms around my waist. We dance a little, and he twirls me around.

"What?" he says, pulling me close again.

"Nothing," I say quietly. Everything, I think.

"You like me," he smirks.

"Stop…reading my mind," I laugh.

He pulls me closer and goes on singing, and we turn in a circle.

Last night we did not get together, but after I got home from patrol I asked if he'd do the market with me in the morning and he said sure. So we parted then and he was by the truck when I went down at four-thirty. He was smoking a cigarette and leaning there, Ned's leash in his hand.

But now, I have the lunch done and we stand in the kitchen, and he holds me there and it is quiet except for Ned barking at Dusty now and then, or other way around. It is so quiet I hear my cat clock ticking and I am counting the beats of Edward's heart. I like his body so much, and the way he is available to me, for hugging, for touching, it is the most incredible thing. He offers himself to me. I can breathe in his shirt and his skin. I can look into his eyes…me. I can watch all his smiles and hundred expressions. I don't take anything for granted.

"What's the worst you've ever done because you were angry?" I ask. Because I can't imagine these hands that hold me, that play music and take care of Ned and paint and pick vegetables, I can't imagine these dear hands hurting anyone.

He is quiet for just a minute then he blurts a laugh. "Why are you…that's a terrible question…also a good one." Now he sounds like me.

He is thinking, and I am waiting and listening to the thoughts roaming around in there.

"Any age?" he asks.

"Yes."

"I once threw a rock…wait, I'm about ten…I threw this rock and it hit my…this kid…he was standing in a wagon and teasing me and I just threw the rock at him and it hit him and knocked him clean out of the wagon. I ran up there and he was laying there with blood pouring out of a gash on his head and he said, "Now you've done it, you killed me." And I ran off screaming, but I didn't go for my Mom, I just went and hid and told myself I didn't do it."

He laughs weakly and I ask more questions and he answers, but we don't move, we keep holding one another.

"God," he says, "I wonder if that's when…it started."

"You throwing rocks at people's heads?" I ask and I'm laughing a little, but then I'm not. I'm quiet too. He's not going to answer, I know he isn't, but I already heard. He wonders if that's where it started—the running…the hiding…the pretending.

Or maybe not. Maybe I'm wrong. I have that tendency to flip rocks and look at all the life beneath the quiet, solid top…like it's the most important thing.

I look at him, I don't speak, but he's looking back, long enough that I've passed my normal limit, but I don't care. I want him to know. I know.


	24. Chapter 24

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 24

That evening, after Edward has spent the afternoon putting the double coat on Billy's living room walls, Edward and I clean the wood floor and move the furniture in place. I estimate this room has not been this shiny since before Billy's wife Sue died in the nineties. We have not moved a couple of things back in—an old chair and a rickety table. They are currently on the curb with the trash. We've gotten rid of all the magazines and newspapers. They are also on the curb. Does anyone need twenty-one years worth of Ebony? These had belonged to Sue, not Billy. I doubted he'd ever touched them since she died, and the ones that had come since he was still piling.

I know we could have tried to sell them on ebay but Edward nixed it. "Do him a favor and get rid of them, Swan," he said. And I know, Edward parts easily with…things.

So some of these stacks went with permission, some while Billy wasn't looking, while he was yelling at the television during the ballgame. It looks so good in here we can't stop staring and Billy has not asked after a thing. Is he relieved? He might be.

I had already started cleaning the kitchen. Edward and I stood in there next trying to imagine a brave new world. Edward wondered if we should paint it yellow. "Your mom said that's a good color for kitchens," he says. "And you did that cool ceiling."

I blow a raspberry. Billy likes it simple. Yellow might work. Billy won't care until we do, then he'll be full of advice and criticism until he sees the change and his mouth gets stopped and he's pointing out a drop of paint here or there and saying, this don't look too bad.

It's been a long, good, productive day. Earlier we had separated Ned and Dusty. Ned is at home in Edward's yard. Dusty is in Billy's.

Since we are finished for now, I bring Dusty into the house on his leash and introduce him to Billy.

"Looks just like the other one," Billy says cause he's seen Ned's antics from his window.

"They're brothers," I say.

"Oh…brothers," Billy pats Dusty's head. "There is a man that sticketh closer than a brother," he says idly quoting scripture while he rubs Dusty's head. I figure Billy is talking about Charlie. They'd been like that once…brothers. It seemed that way. Dad bought the house across the street because of Billy. I called him Uncle Billy then.

"You taking this guy on patrol?" Billy asks.

King had walked with me. "I don't know," I say. "You like him? He could stay with you while I walk."

"What I gonna do with him? He housebroke?"

"Supposed to be," I say.

Billy repeats that like what the hell.

"Just let him hang out while I go," I say.

"What about him?" he points at Edward then says to him, "You take him."

"Hey man, the lady who cleaned your toilet asks you to watch her dog it's like a no-brainer, right?" Edward says this so nicely I hope he can get by with it.

"No brainer? I'm in this chair." Billy means his lift chair.

"No disrespect, but get out of it sometimes," Edward says and I know it's time to wrap it up.

"Here it comes. Paint my walls…tell me what to do?"

"No," Edward says, "nothing like that. Just saying get some exercise. Come with us to the market on Saturday. See some people."

"I don't like people," Billy says.

"I don't either," I say like proof that shouldn't stop you.

Well we talked that into the ground because it's a little awkward and I say, "I guess I'll take Dusty home then, and…see you tomorrow."

"Well he can stay while you walk," Billy says reaching for the leash.

I look at Edward and he's trying not to smile. He goes to the door and I hand off the leash to Billy and say, "Sure. Um…thanks."

I don't even wait around. We are out of there and running across Billy's little patch of lawn and all the way across the street. When we get near Edward's, we're laughing then, and he goes onto his porch and I follow him…why am I still following him? Because I'm so, so happy, I don't even know why because Dusty might give Billy a hard time, I don't even know, but I'm so happy, and Edward gets me on the porch and near the end it's hard to see with the plants on the trellis, and he pulls me right there, and then it's hug time, and kiss time, and I'm setting on the rail and he's right there between my eyes, my lungs, my legs, my feet. He's right there along the midline, opening me up so he can move right into my heart, and I am folded around him like a flower trapping a bee and he's humming in me.

He's laughing and we're kissing. It's exhilarating and I have never felt young like this, maybe never, I have never felt young until now, young, strong, alive, like the good guys are winning in this world, like Edward and I might be the very first ones to live forever.

I am kissing him, and it's the best way to celebrate…life.

"Edward," I whisper. He is so close we share breath. There's nothing to say about this, just his name. I declare his name there between us. I pledge my allegiance.

"Bella," he says, it's like blessing, like stardust. I am Bella. That's me.

"I'm very happy," I confess.

"Me too," he says, his mouth lifted in a smile, a tender beautiful smile.

"It's you. You are making me happier and happier."

He laughs. "I am? Well ditto."

I laugh. Everything is funny. Ditto is perfect. Wrong and perfect.

"After I walk," I whisper, dropping my gaze to his throat, to the vee of skin his T-shirt shows, "I'll…."

"I'll wait for you," he says.

"I'll…go home first…."

He's finished talking. He leads me to the steps. "Sooner you go, sooner you return."

I am still laughing as I hurry home for my flashlight. He tried to offer his, but…no.

111111111111111111111111111111111

Mom is gone again. I get my light and I'm out. I tell myself to slow down, to pay attention.

Everything is clear. The dark world is friendly. Even the shadows have a soft welcoming beauty. The night is cooler. The breeze rattles the leaves in the trees like God sifts his hands through his coffers and we all feel rich. Love has not dulled me, quite the opposite. I am in my skin but I'm a part of something bigger, let in on a secret...I am aware.

Love? You know it when you…feel it. Until then you only hope…you wait. You wonder if you'll recognize it. I had…wondered that. But the force of it…you can't ignore love. Do I feel love…euphoric…phase one through ten? It can't be anything else. He is…Romeo…Lancelot …Rochester…Edward.

And I am just Bella. But love, Edward's love is kind. I remember Merle saying that to Leah and me, so many times. Love, young ladies, is kind. And Edward is the kindest person I know next to Merle and Pearlie.

So how could I not love him?

It's happened quick, I know that. It's too fast, too uninformed, too unusual. And I have no experience. I don't know what to compare this to. Does Edward remind me of Merle? He does. Edward has that fineness I've seen in Merle, that honorable thing. He puts others first.

He loves dogs and people and…vegetables. Does he love me? Is that what makes the green in his eyes so meltingly, hauntingly beautiful?

I can't be in this by myself.

A blue car passes, slow, its lights flash bright in my face, the driver, a ponytail, forties? Sometimes it happens, strange men, like they prowl in cars. Billy is long past the lectures, how to pay attention. I've set up a routine, and I'm alone, and that's the thing Billy never liked. But it's just the neighborhood, one block. And years have gone by, and so we've settled, que-sera, sera. Lone men in cars, I show no fear. This one doubles back. He passes again, I don't know what he's looking for. He slows. "Hey, I'm looking for a rental someone told me about."

"I don't know. Walter relator. It's in the book ," I say, keeping my distance. I figure it's the rental house, but how do I know? My instincts say to send him on.

"You need a ride?"

I'm moving now. He's pointed in my direction. I don't answer, I keep walking, put my cell to my ear, shine my light in his face, a nice watch, a laptop open on the passenger's seat. He takes off slow.

111111111111111111111111111111111111

When patrol is done I knock on Edward's door, and Dusty is barking on my side of the slab and Ned is barking on the other.

Edward opens the door and he's in his sleep pants and the forever t-shirt, hair still damp from his shower, paint-free at last. He hasn't tried to rebuke Ned because the brother love is strong and I keep Dusty on his leash as he and Ned reconnect in a dog hug and teeth clacking bite-fest.

"Billy do okay with Dusty?" he says.

"He just sat there and he had his paw on Billy's leg."

"Sweet," Edward says. "Oh and speaking of…sweet…." He pulls me to him and I drop the leash and the two dogs are in a wrestling match.

Edward peels off the strap from my bag and sets that on the floor, then the jacket I've worn over as he kisses me hello. "It's been too long since…I missed you," he says.

I couldn't get over here fast enough. "I didn't shave my legs. I'm sorry," I say. Then I'm so completely mortified to have said it. Why?

Edward picks me up and hurriedly carries me to the bedroom almost yelling, "Let me see, let me see," and he throws me on the bed and Ned is there and Dusty, still wrestling and now I'm in the middle of it, arms over my face.

Edward has made them both get down and he's shut the bedroom door, so they can't rocket through the rest of the house. They are both laying down looking at him while he lectures sternly. As soon as he turns toward me Ned crawls on his belly to Dusty and they both have their mouths open ready to start chewing on each other.

But Edward isn't interested anymore. He whips his shirt over his head and throws it at the dresser, then he grabs my foot pulls off the shoe and pushes the loose leg of my pants up my thigh. He positions my foot on his shoulder and runs his hands up and down my extended leg while I lay on my back my hands splayed on the twisted bedding.

"Edward," I'm saying, but he won't give me my leg.

"Ouch," he's saying, pretending his hands are getting torn up on the bristles. Then he slows his rubbing and says, "Hmmm."

Then he's looking at my leg as his hands glide firmly and smoothly, and I think he's going to touch me there, in-between, cause his eyes flash there a few times, but he takes the other foot, puts it on his opposite shoulder and he rubs up and down on that leg, giving it equal time. "No complaints from me, Swan. These legs will just…have to do." He's looking at me now.

I'm in love with him. I love him. If he can read my mind, he'll know.

"She's looking at me," he says softly. "She's telling me something. What is she trying to convey?" he says. "Her social security number? Or did she forget to turn off her curling iron?"

"I don't use a curling iron," I say trying to keep my eyes from rolling.

"Oh…that's good," and the hands…, "that's real good, Swan."

I laugh then and pull my legs away from him and roll out of his reach. I sit up Indian style and this gets the dogs' attention, and Edward warns them to stay put, then crawls into bed with me.

We rearrange ourselves on the pillows. His arm is around me. I love the skin there, his armpit too, the place right under. I settle my head more on his chest then. I put the flat of my hand there, feel his heart thump, feel the muscles shaping the skin. His nipples are small. He could never nurse children. No, first I think, he could never nurse puppies. I smile and he must feel the way my face moves, and he laughs a little and says what's funny?

"Your nipples are just for advertising."

"What?"

"They're very small."

"They're man-nipples. Oh. Let's see yours. Are they hairy like your legs?"

I squeal and roll away from him and he's trying to lift my shirt, and Ned is quickly on the bed again, and Dusty bowls right on top of me. My arm is stinging from Dusty's toenails. Edward rebukes them soundly and they slink onto the blanket on the floor, their tails nervously pumping against the wood.

Edward returns to me, takes my arm to view the damage. He kisses the red scratch. "Damn dogs. I'm taking them to a kill shelter," he says kill shelter in their direction, "in the morning."

They are both over here now, their noses poking at me. "It's alright," I say patting their clunky heads. I point out Dusty's little knob on top of his skull. It's sharper than Ned's. Once this has all been thoroughly explored and talked about we all settle in again. Edward has his arm in place, and I am lying on his shoulder. We smell a little like dogs now, but we agree we're too lazy to wash because they'll probably be back a few more times.

In a minute I am tracing his profile. I say, "Too doggy?"

He laughs and says, "My face?"

His eyes are closed so I can do what I want. I touch his lashes. They are as thick as they look. I rub my finger over his brow. Then I trace again. His jaws are rough with shadow.

"I like your face," I whisper thinking of God the potter, us the clay and how Edward typifies that better than anyone I've seen before or likely ever will.

He smiles but he doesn't open his eyes. "I like you here," he says.

I put my arm around him and move as close to him as I can. I allow my eyes to close, and my breathing eases. I can feel sleep weighing my eyelids, even my lashes. I feel so safe, here in this home I am starting to call his.

"Edward?"

"Yes?"

Will you hug me hard…hard as you can?"

He moves then, more onto his side. I am wearing him. He has a leg around me even, and he tightens his hold, tightens more. I close my eyes and direct all of my attention to this feeling…of being protected. My mind quiets, and I am here, here, wrapped in him.

He doesn't speak, we don't speak. I have my ear against his chest and I hear his body thump and gurgle, and I feel his strength enfolded there, a vice of flesh and bone and muscle, but a heart, a mind that believes…in this hug…in us.

After a couple of minutes he says, "Swan?"

"Yes?"

"I'm easing a little, okay?"

I don't answer, but he eases and I breathe more. I think of how I had to bolt when I awoke in his arms. But when he lets me be the asker, it can't be tight enough…his hold.

"Did you like it, being held that way?"

"Yes," I say small.

"It didn't hurt?"

"In a good way."

"I don't want to hurt you baby."

I look at him, that deep in his eyes. "It was good."

He is touching me, my face and hair. "Think about us…what we've done together?" he says.

"At Billy's?"

He laughs. "No. Or yes. While we were being all nice and industrious…and I tried not to let him…or you for that matter…catch me staring at your ass."

I raise and slap at him. He's laughing and I am too. "I did catch you," I say, "that one time."

"You did not," he says.

We settle down and get quiet, the dogs making these little gasps while they chew, and the soft whirr of the fan making a kind of music.

"What have you been thinking about it?" he asks.

"Read it," I say, because I could never tell him.

He puts his thumb in the middle of my forehead and says, "Thought-so."

But here's what I'm thinking-Edward…I love you. If you left people…they're wondering…they loved you. You're so kind. They miss you…someone…somewhere is missing you.

He says, "Bella…I'm a five minute show. Anyone can be great for five minutes. But you, five years, twenty, they just love you all the more. You're the real deal."

I move my head so I can look in his eyes.

"I know how special you are. It's not casual. They say casual sex—I don't feel that way…casual," he says.

I don't know what to say to that. I can't speak right away. I try to imagine myself as this special thing. A dozen mundane pictures of me doing my mundane things flip through my mind. It's a stretch.

He breathes in, his arm tightening for a minute.

"Is anyone looking for you?"

He hesitates. "No."

"How do you know?"

"They're not. I haven't been home in a long time."

"Did something bad happen? Could you go home if you wanted to? Would you?"

"I am home. Not back there. Here. This. You."

"Chicago?"

"What?"

"Chicago. Is that home?"

"Why would you say that?" His demeanor changes. "How…has Billy been…it's Billy."

"No," I say, alarmed at how serious he's become so quickly. "It was the newspaper…for the fries. It said Chicago," I say. We're sitting up.

He stares at me, and I know he's a little ashamed, but it's really thrown him that I've said Chicago.

"Bella…I told you the Midwest. Why can't that be enough? You and Billy. I need you to drop it. It has no bearing on what's happening between us."

"I just want to know you."

He pulls me back down, and we wrap ourselves in one another and it's so comforting and true, it's so overpowering to be this close, we kiss.

"Bella, listen to me cause this is going to kill me to say this, okay?"

I nod and I'm scared.

"We're doing the man-woman thing, right? We both know why you came over, we know why I told you to hurry. But you haven't thought this through." We are looking at one another. "I've been pushing and…that hasn't been fair. I need to back off and let you come my way…if you want to. When."

"I did come your way. You don't want me."

"Of course I want you. That's never been a problem." He pulls me closer and says close to my face, my lips, "I want you Bella Swan."

I can't leave him. Doesn't he know that? I can't even stop to think. Breathing over thinking. Living over thinking.

He is looking at me, looking. "You're never rash, amazingly consistent, every move calculated, you're throwing all that aside for someone you worry you can't trust. You need to go home, girl. You need to run the hell out of here."

I take his hand, hold it, I look so far into his eyes I am falling head first in a rush. "I won't leave you, Edward. I don't want to. I want to be here. No-where else."

He doesn't say anything for a while. He's looking so far into me.

Finally I lay my head back down and he slowly pulls me in and he tightens his arms like he did before, and he adds the leg and I am crushed against him waiting for his body to give way and become one with mine.

We lay like this and he's holding me, and inside I am rearranged, I am soft and echoey as I look into rooms long closed, rooms I'd forgotten were behind the walls…in me.

When his arms tremble he eases his hold and I lift then, enough to kiss him, to give him myself that way, and I pull up my shirt so I can feel my skin on his. He groans and we kiss like this and time goes away and dogs and the room, and I am over him, on him, and I stay there but I move off, my hand wanting to feel what I've felt against my protruding pelvic bone. I ease off and I feel him then, through the thin pants and underwear which he pulls down and hooks somewhere under his balls and I see him then, the way he's made, and I look at his face and he's watching me, letting me take my time. I touch him and I can feel the tightening in him and he wraps his hand around mine and I know I should hold him that way, this flesh over hardness having some give, some looseness, and his body lifts with the pleasure I'm giving him. "That's enough," he says, taking my hand. "You're going to kill him. Get undressed."

We both do, and it's quick, and I am bare to him, and he to me, and he is glorious and I watch his big hand for a minute, moving over me, my breasts, my scar, my stomach, the hair between my very spread legs, my white thighs. And I see it now, that I'm this woman…sexy…I have what he wants…I have it. He's made me beautiful…right now…perfect.

He touches me down there, his head on my stomach, he makes me come, go to pieces, yell out and my hands in his hair, the long hot wave of pleasure, then his hot lips on mine, and sucking my tongue my lips, sucking on my breasts and one quick touch of his fingers and I put my hands over his strong hand and lift my head and I come again, bliss and sounds and smells, and I grab onto him and I'm pumping him, and faster and the white, hot spurts, the wet and sticky, the sweaty us, the laughing us, the kissing wildly us, the whispered words, beauty, beautiful, my God, the glow, the joy of so much discovery.

"In the morning I'm going to fry you some patty pan squash," I say after.

"That white kind?"

"Yeah. With soft eggs. It's so good. You dip the squash in the yellow."

"Bella Swan," he whispers. Then he says, "We never had our steak!"

"After we cut pumpkins tomorrow," I say. "I know a place."

I get a kiss for that. He gets one too, for kissing me. We don't sleep until much later.


	25. Chapter 25

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 25

On Friday, after the promised breakfast of patty pan squash and soft eggs and fresh tomatoes, some footsies while we eat, some long lingering looks, some hugs, some smooches, Edward, Leah, the dogs and I are on our way to the pumpkin patch on Leah's uncles' farm. We plan to cut the various sizes and colors and shapes of pumpkins and load them in the truck.

"This dog is drooling on my leg," Leah says in her dead pan way. She has Dusty between her knees and Edward has Ned between his. I'd wanted Edward to sit in the middle so he could be by me, but he said it wasn't manly to sit in the middle so Leah had to do it.

At first she is shy around Edward, blushing and looking at me like, what's this? Then she softens up a little and pretty soon she is smirking at everything he says.

She tells him how her uncles planted the pumpkins near the pond and they grow like crazy there, tangled in the sunflowers and cattails. Every fall they let us cut them for the market as they both have a series of shelter dogs and believe in the cause. They've never taken wives, just dogs and cats and various critters, a long line of them.

Leah has a box in the back of the truck with two pies and cookies for the old bachelors. They've both served in Vietnam and one of them lived like a homeless man for many years until the other one went to Detroit and brought him back to the farm. So the two of them live in the same ramshackle they've grown up in. They still use the same appliances and the regular antenna on their old T. V..

"You've got to understand, my people are about the land," she says.

"What happens if I fail to understand that?" Edward teases.

"You'll see them as a couple of losers too lazy to fix up their house," she says.

Edward loves that and says, "Dully noted. No judgment from me Miss Leah."

Pulling onto the property Edward whistles through his teeth. "I had this place I wouldn't care what I lived in," he says.

It is typical picturesque Michigan farmland. The old house and adjacent faded red barn are tucked in some trees and a swell of ground leads to a large pond. The ground is dry enough I am able to pull my truck right up to the water. I drive slow so we aren't jostled too awful much but Leah still complains.

Ned and Dusty seem to know we've arrived and are both getting all breathy and antsy. As soon as Edward opens his door the dogs are out, and Edward has both leashes. We've decided to keep them tethered until they meet the uncles' dogs. We also don't want them to run off and get lost.

So here come the dogs right off, a Collie sort, a yellow mixed lab, and a beagle. They have plenty to say about Ned and Dusty and those being the new guys and young to-boot, they stand at ease and let themselves be sniffed. The shelter has socialized them, and in a few minutes everyone's tail is waving and Edward unsnaps their leads.

The uncles come next. One, Tom, is on a four-wheeler. The other, Mr. Homeless from Detroit, is driving a tractor.

Leah introduces Edward and he moves to each of their vehicles to shake hands. He's asked about the pond and the fish, tells them they have a great place. I pull my gloves from behind the seat and find another pair for Edward. He doesn't know how prickly the stems can be. I get the two knives for cutting the fruit. I nod to the uncles and give Edward the implements that will make him an official migrant worker. Leah is in the bed retrieving her box of baked goods. Edward puts his knife in his back-pocket and rushes to help her, taking the box from her while she jumps to the ground.

She'll walk the baked goods up to the house and end up cleaning the kitchen so she can complain all the way home about how disgusting her uncles are.

They follow after Leah on their vehicles and I am free to walk to the first green pumpkin looking stealth in the tall grass. I show Edward where to cut and I've bent over to do that, and he moves close to me and I feel his hand around my waist. When I stand he pulls me in and kisses me softly on the lips. "Kissing with knives is the best," he says and then he smiles and kisses me again.

It's funny and sexy and I don't want to stop. He smirks at me and picks up the green monster saying, "Come to daddy," and I slap him lightly on the ass before he can straighten.

He stands up and gives me a look like he can't believe I did that. After all, he'd been honorable and touched my waist.

"Move it, Cullen. We don't have all day," I say like queen of the patch.

"Yes Ma'am," he says with a southern drawl and a wink and he takes the bounty to the truck.

He is in love with the different gourd shapes. They are so cool and it's fascinating to see what's next. These are heirloom vegetables and they bring the most interest at market and the best prices.

"Hey, you want to see my gourd," he whispers once, as he passes me carrying a nice fat orange vegie.

I am laughing. It's pretty outrageous behavior for a southern gentleman.

By noon we've got a good load on the truck and the dogs are lying in the grass worn out. They've gone swimming countless times and they've wrestled and run all over the place. We're about starved and Edward and I put the damp dogs in the bed and drive to the house and honk for Leah. She tells us to go on, she's spending the night the house is such a mess. That means Edward and I are doing the market in the morning. I know where everything is and she's baked, but the old reluctance to face that crowd is in me, even though Edward will charm them and do most of the talking for us.

We move the dogs to the cab and I try to breathe toward my open window because they smell like dog-frogs. Edward lets Ned sit in his usual place on the floor, and he's worked to keep Dusty off the seat, but I finally tell him to let Dusty get up there. It's not worth the fight.

So on the way home we look at one another around Dusty's big mossy head and that doesn't dim either one of our smiles at all.

At home Edward says let's meet up for that steak around supper time. He says, "How long do you need?"

I have so much work to do, and he says he'll pick the garden and put everything in the crates so I can keep working and maybe I'd like to see a movie too?

I am so thrown by all this I can't answer.

"Swan?"

"I don't know," I say. Can I really stay focused on my work knowing he's in the garden doing my job? I really don't know.

"And I'll take the kids," he says, like it's settled, and I guess it is because he has both of them on their leashes. "How long Swan?"

"Um…six."

"Okay," he says. "See you then…pumpkin."

I am cringing and he likes that. He's laughing. "Is that a fruit or a vegetable?"

"Both," I say. "It has characteristics of both."

"Oh yeah…that's you then."

I don't know what he means by that. But he's cute, walking away with those two dogs behaving for once.

I sigh really big and go in the house. Mom isn't home yet, so I make a couple of sandwiches and take them over to Billy. I knock on the door and put my forehead on the screen. "Hey," I say.

He waves me in. I take the sandwiches to him. "Doe with you?" he asks.

"No. Why?"

"Just wondering if he's going to start on the kitchen."

"He will."

"He don't have a job?"

"Just you."

"A real job? He would have liquidated any assets when he went in the program so that could keep him going for a while," Billy says.

"Let it go," I say. "He doesn't like you saying that."

"Course not. He thinks I'm blowing his cover."

"Well if you believe he's in Witsec, you are blowing his cover. Promise you won't say it again."

"What are you doing, Bella? You got the gooey eyes for him."

"Eat your sandwiches," I say. "You make that store list?"

"Right here," he hands it to me with his debit card.

"Bella? You serious about Doe?"

"Edward, Billy. You know that."

"He's hiding something. If somebody's looking for him, it could put you in danger."

"Edward is the nicest person you'll ever meet. If you can't see that by now…some cop."

"Lots of nice people in Witsec. Some great guys in jail. Oh look, there went a unicorn past my window," he says.

It's time for me to go. I get home and turn on my laptop and make myself dig into one of the files awaiting my attention. By five I give up. I am finally accomplishing something, but it's time to think about what I look like. I get undressed and stand before the mirror. I'm honestly not much. I am not ugly, I know that, but I'm no beauty either. Beige. Oh God, I'm beige. What does Edward see in me? What if he's secretly making fun of me and I can't see it? I am crazy in love. He's…here. I don't know why. Am I just convenient…like the soda you drink because someone puts it in your hand and you're too lazy to walk to the fridge and get another? Is it like that?

I am disillusioned while I dig in my closet to find…something. I think of Renee's closet. But no, we're not on those kinds of terms. We don't even see one another, don't want to. I don't trust her clothes anyway. They've been around.

I settle on jeans and a pretty blouse. It's a dark red and I'd gotten it from Merle and Pearlie for my birthday. That meant Leah had picked it out and believe it or not she had decent taste for someone besides herself. It had these flat subtle studs on the shoulders. That's what had kept me from wearing it before now, that and not having an occasion.

I put my hair in a braid so the studs would show. And because Edward can pull on it to his heart's content. My heart is fluttering at the thought of his hands on me.

Mom is home when I go down, my flat shoes quiet on the stairs. She's in the kitchen. "Bella Marie get in here," she says.

I go as far as the door. When I see her, I don't feel the rush of care I expect myself to. I am numb towards her and immediately guilty for that…for the numbness.

She is sitting at the table smoking and drinking a glass of wine. She is also dressed to go out. I have no wish to smell like cigarettes so I keep my distance, and I want to get out quickly if she tries to start something.

She is looking up and down me nodding her head, her mouth open a little, her tongue tucked behind her bottom teeth. I keep still.

"Going out? What are you doing…moving in with this guy?"

I'm not, so I don't answer.

"I know how powerful it is the first time. You think he's the only one, that you can't feel that way about anyone else. You'd die for him." She flicks her ashes in the tray, "and you imagine he'd die for you."

We don't touch that scenario. Mom's happiest when I pretend to fit her generic, all-knowing profiles.

"Yeah, it was like that with Charlie. Believe it or not. Those first couple of years…it was just like that. But right next door…how convenient for him. And exciting for you. Neither one of you even have to leave home…leave the block. And we know you like that…not leaving the block. It's like he got sent by UPS. Right to the door. Thanks to me. I invited him in. I get it. He was waiting to see which one of us came toward him first. You were so easily infatuated. And men can't resist young stuff."

"Mom," I say. Young stuff? "I'm your daughter. I'm going out." I turn to leave.

"Bella? Can you give me just a minute at least?"

I stop. Not to hurt me. I can't give you another second to hurt me. But I turn around.

"You believe it was that way for me and Charlie once?"

I have no idea. "It," I clear my throat, "…doesn't matter now."

"You think it doesn't? Obtuse, Bella. Very obtuse. Let me tell you something about…getting older. It matters…the love you've…had. It matters."

"Alright," I say. Anything because I realize she's had more than one glass of the wine.

"I know you don't think he loved me, but he did."

Actually it was me I didn't think Charlie loved. It's as far as I ever got when he burst onto the scene of my life and invaded my peaceful day. "I don't want to talk about him, Mom. I do my best to forget he ever existed."

"Don't look in the mirror then," she says.

That's it. I go out even though she calls after, comes all the way to the door and calls after. Face is pulling up then. He can deal with her.

1111111111111111111111111111

We are at Steak an' Grits. That is how they sell cow here, with a side of grits. There are only four tables in this side room of the bar. You come in, get a number if you want to eat, and drink and dance if you can find a few feet on the crowded floor, and drink some more before they call you to sit.

And on Friday and Saturday nights you can double the wait. But if you're with someone you love, someone who makes time melt away because he's holding you up against him and talking softly to you while everyone else mills around you and you don't even have to run out of the room at all you are so centered on him, then it doesn't matter how long you have to wait for that steak cooked in an iron skillet with a side of grits that are so well seasoned and flavored and go so well with the meat you can't imagine a baked potato ever having the nerve to take their place.

When we get in we have to share the table, so we're together on one short bench and we never do say much to the couple across from us, beyond hello. After that it's just Edward and me, his arm around me, mine around him. I'm telling him how Leah and me started selling at the market, and I'm telling him how shy we both were and how Leah gave things away so she wouldn't have to talk to people and some of the vendors got mad and we both packed up and left and Merle had to go with us a couple of times to 'get us back in the saddle.' We are laughing then and I'm telling him about the bachelor uncles. Well he is full of questions and I don't know why he wants to hear all of this anyway, but he listens so intently like I'm giving him a gift or something.

They bring our food then and we are digging in and Edward is so excited, well he loves good food, I sure know that. He's chewing and smiling at me, and it's not long after I look up and see Mom and Face and Horny and my boss enter. My perfect bubble pops without a sound.

I have my head over my plate then and I'm shoveling like this place caught fire. I beat Edward. "Man," he says noting my empty dish, "hungry?"

I can hear Mom's big laugh over the crowd in the next room. I know she's already plastered. I am wiggling my foot. I'm starting to count the people, figure out how long it would take me to get out, making a mental picture of myself pushing people out of the way. I know I need to distract myself, and Edward has been enough, but now I just want to go but he's asking me if I can eat dessert and I'm saying a sound, no.

He catches my energy it seems. He pays the waitress and we're up and moving, his hand on my back as I pick through the crowd in the bar. Mom calls my name and the din lowers a few notches as people look. It's not a common name, Bella, and around here, if you've been here long enough, you might remember. There have been plenty of crimes since ours made headlines for a couple of weeks, but some are so sensational you remember. I feel eyes, I see the faces. Edward has stopped, and stopped me, his hand on my arm. He waves to Mom. "Renee," he says and she is right there.

"Caught you red-handed," she says to him. Face is coming up behind her and Alice and my boss.

Edward is saying how great the food is, and Jasper is making his way around everyone to get to me. "Bella," he says, "how's it going with the Puritan file?"

"I'm almost finished," I say. I know my performance has slowed, but I'm still in the timeframe, just not ahead like usual. He's looking at me, one eye to the other like people do when they're trying to figure you out.

"I was hoping you could come in this week. Like Tuesday? Tuesday at eight?"

"Yeah okay," I say, knowing I'll find a way out of it. I just want to get out of here. Does he not see I'm on a date?

"Did you get a number?" Edward asks Jasper.

Jasper holds up a number. Alice is giving me this gooney look like I've bagged the big turkey at the shoot. I feel sweat roll down my back.

"I'll…be outside," I say rudely.

Edward says oh, okay, says good-bye and we are out.

Shit I can finally breathe a little. "It was hot in there," I say to Edward.

He kisses my temple. "You did fine."

I look at him. Does he know what I go through sometimes?

"She was better…your mom. You guys…talk or something? I thought she'd kill me for asking you to stay over."

"She talked. I…barely listened." I have to smile a little, and he laughs.

We're in the parking lot and he's holding my door open while I climb in the truck when I see him one aisle over. It's dark, but I recognize the car, the plates. The ponytail.

Edward is in, and he follows my line of sight, but the man in the car means nothing to him. I want to tell him, but then, I don't. I'm eager to get out of here, eager to see if this guy follows.

Edward pulls on my ponytail. "Hey, you feeling a little jumpy tonight?"

"No," I say, feeling my fake grin lift my cheeks.

"We don't have to see a movie if you're...pressed about work or something...the Puritan file?" I feel relief that he's not so good at reading my mind tonight.

"Well...if you don't mind," I say.

He's surprised. Maybe a little hurt? I can't know for sure.

"No...no big deal. But it is about the file...and not...walking patrol?"

"I'm just...we've got the market in the morning."

"You could bring your work over...after you walk. I swear I'll leave you alone. Give you a bath...later? I'll make you feel all new," he says, no embarrassment at all, just this face, this promising gaze all over me as he toys now with the studs on my shoulder.

I want to repeat that...give me a bath part. But I have the self-consciousness he seems to lack. "Am I two years old?" I say.

He touches my chin a little. "You're my baby."

As brain-blowing as it is to hear that, I am watching the blue car, watching the ponytail. "Okay," I say. "I don't know...I have to work. Edward, I have to."

"I could punch him," Edward says.

"Who?" I ask quickly.

"Jasper. Who else? What a douche reminding you of work on a Friday night."

I start the truck. "You ever going to get a job?"

He doesn't answer right away, but he's toying with my hair, my blouse. "I've got one. I'm your boy," he says.

I laugh at that, but I'm multi-tasking. I pull into the street and the blue car moves out of its spot.


	26. Chapter 26

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 26

I walk on the sidewalk, the heavy meal sitting in my protesting stomach. I know it's not right, the man in the blue car, the same blue car that now sits in the driveway of the rental house. He followed us home, but he seems to live here now, separated from Edward's house by an empty lot.

I don't hesitate, I walk onto the porch. See, I'm shy about a lot of things, backwards even, I admit, I always have been the keeper of barbed social skills, but about this, this I can do for those same reasons.

So I am knocking on the door and he doesn't take long to open because like me, he's a watcher and I'll bet he saw me coming.

"Who are you?" I say.

"Who are you?" he says.

"Your neighbor. You passed me when I was walking, then tonight at the restaurant. Now you're here. Who are you?"

"I guess I'm the same as you…your neighbor. I…like a good steak. And I moved in here."

I can see behind him, the empty…ness. A pallet on the floor. An open suitcase black and soft as butter.

"My stuff hasn't arrived yet," he says smoothly, turning to see what I see.

"I thought you were following me," I say.

"Sorry about that. Guess our planets were on the same collision course." He says this, but he doesn't say too much. Practically nothing.

I nod. "Okay," I say. We've collided.

"You're what…like the neighborhood watch?"

"Yeah."

"How do I sign up for that?"

"It's my job," I say, and I'm already coming off the porch, but I turn, "Your name again?"

"You first?"

"Bella."

"Oh. Well A. R."

"A. R.," I repeat so he can correct me cause it's so weird to have a name like that.

"Yeah. Which house is yours?"

I point to the left, "Two doors."

He looks down that way. "Right. The dogs."

I don't explain. I hope they don't bother him too much, but I hope they do. I don't care.

"Well, be seeing you," I say. I want to do the eye thing, point at my eyes, my fingers in a vee, point from me to him a few times. Cause I'll be watching him. And not giving me a name? No problem. Billy will make a call on the plates and we'll know soon enough.

So I stop at Billy's when I reach there and write the number and tell him to find out. I tell him we have a new neighbor in the rental, give him the make of the car. I don't say anymore. But I could.

"If Edward is in Witsec…wouldn't Juney know?"

Billy puts his head to the side like I'm mental. "He won't tell me that."

"Maybe if you ask?"

"If he tells that because I ask Doe is good as found."

What if he's already found? "Keep an eye on him, maybe?" I suggest.

"Like Rear Window," he says.

I have to laugh. I don't want to.

"That makes you Grace Kelly?"

I have to laugh again.

But I am troubled as I cross the street. Worse, Jasper's car rolls up as soon as I make it to my gate. Seems he and Alice are delivering Mom. She's drunk off her ass and crying. Alice doesn't seem to want Kleenex duty. She literally hands her off to me with apologetic eyes. Apparently she's about to get her groove on…again, and suddenly remembers Mom and me are related. Jasper leans over and asks if I want some help. Such a gentleman. That's when I tell him I won't be coming in to the office. I hear him say, "Bella," with some exasperation as I keep going.

So I'm half carrying Mom up the porch stairs and she's going on about that son of a bitch. Face must have played his get out of jail free card or something.

We get inside and she stumbles trying to take off her shoes and lands on her ass there and she's on her side then, fetal position with no womb that will take her. Her necklace is snaking onto the floor and her manicure looks limp lying there like someone spit out red pistachio shells. "Mom," I say nudging her with my foot.

"Go away," she says without opening her eyes.

"Mom come on. Get in bed at least." I squat beside her and attempt to move her.

She slaps at me, one of the nails scraping my neck. "Get away from me."

Since I'm already down there I back up a little and sit on the bottom step of the staircase. She goes right back to playing possum again. I sigh big time.

"Stop staring at me," she says, her moving lips the only indicator she's not in a coma.

"I think I'll take a picture so you can see yourself in the morning," I say.

"Fuck off, Bella."

"Oh Mom."

Her eyes pop open. "What? You think you're cute?" She pushes up on her hands then.

"You're drinking too much," I say.

"Don't be my mother. You're not any better at it than she was."

I suddenly have a new respect for that Grandma. Maybe she wasn't as bad as Mom painted her. I was sure she had her side of the story.

"What happened?" I ask from long habit. I really don't want to know. Because I probably already do.

Mom sits up a little more, pushes her hair out of her face as she mutters, "What happened…what happened…I married Charlie Swan…got pregnant…that's what happened. That's what fucking happened."

Oh, we were going way back.

"Mom…did Face do something?"

She peers at me through her drunken fog. "Who?"

"Jace. Did something happen?"

She waves her hand. "I need a smoke." Her purse is nearby. She reaches for it and gets out her cigs and a light. She takes a deep drag and lets it out, her stomach caving, her shoulders drooping forward like her head weighs a ton. Lately, I can see it coming…old age. Sometimes, like now, I can see the shriveling beginning.

"You should be asking what happened to us…me and you. I think…a man is between us. I never thought that would happen." She's picking at her tongue like there's tobacco there, but she's smoking through a filter.

"Edward."

"Who else…Jace? Is Jace between us Bella? Damn get a clue."

"How is Edward between us Mom?"

"You've turned on me ever since. I don't know if you're jealous or what it is. You're never here. It's like you don't even want to spend five minutes with me."

"Do you really feel this way?" I thought it was something else. I didn't know what, but not that she felt I was ignoring her.

"You've always…well we're the two musketeers."

"Mouseketeers Mom," I say. I don't know why.

"It's changed now. You're going to be just like me."

"What does that mean?"

"Oh…is that idea so repugnant?"

"No. It's just stupid. How am I going to be like you? It's another way to insult me."

"Who's insulting? Me? Hear yourself much?"

"I'm not going to waste time fighting with you, Mom."

"I mean you're going to run after the first good looking man you see and end up pregnant. Then you'll see what I mean when your options go flying out the window."

"First man? I'm twenty-seven Mom."

"That's so young."

"Not so young. Edward is…." I couldn't. I couldn't talk about it. "So I fucked up your life. Me and Charlie Swan. We're to blame for everything. You have it so bad. Without us you'd be what…a movie star by now?"

"I don't know why I try to talk to you."

"You don't. You never talk to me," I say.

"Don't do this. Always pointing fingers at me. I've been a good mother. Single mother. You try it."

"You just told me how horrible it is, how I'm going to end up in the same horrible fate. Motherhood, right?"

"And marriage to the first guy that comes along because you want to get away."

"I don't want to get away," I say.

"Yeah you do. You just don't know it."

I'm shaking my head. "You don't know me."

"Hah. I've been you. That's how much I know you."

"You can't talk to a drunk," I say.

She looks ready to choke me. "Miss high and mighty. How's the air up there?"

"Come up and see. First you have to get your ass off the floor though."

We stare at one another. I don't know why I've never seen her insecurities before. But then, I've never talked to her like this before. I don't know why I'm doing it now. Maybe it's because I have something better than her big mouth, her cruelty. I want her to come back at me, shut me up, be stronger, have better answers. Then I'll go back in my cave and believe she knows better. But now, I have really heard what she's saying. She's got nothing. Normally that's when I run to protect her. But right now, I don't want to.

See, I've pitied her for a long time. So there it is again, pity. She probably resents me for it. Maybe hates me. I've felt sorry for her, and I've wrapped my life around that.

"I can't make it up to you," I say.

"What?" she asks, using her cupped hand for an ashtray.

"Everything."

"I never asked you to."

No, she never had. Like I said, we never talked. But somehow, I knew. Somehow, I fell into it. And she let me.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

It's late when she finally gets into bed. I have done some work up in my room, mailed off another file to Jasper just to make sure he's not going to fire me or anything.

Normally I would say it was too late to go to Edward's. But I'm protecting him now. So I pack my bag and make sure the doors are locked and I go out and pocket my keys. At his house it is a few beats before he pulls the door when I knock. He looks a little mad.

"What took you so long, Bella?"

"I'm sorry." I got that out pretty quickly. Usually 'I'm sorry' gets lodged in my throat like it's too big to squeeze out quickly, but I am sorry and it slides right out.

I almost blame Mom, but I hold it back.

He is saying how he almost went to bed. I say I'm sorry again and he says he's not mad but he almost came over to see if I was alright.

"Edward," he stops rattling and looks at me. "I'm sorry."

"Okay," he says. "Okay."

"You've got a new neighbor. A. R., he says."

"What's A. R.?"

"His name."

Edward does a pirate sound. I have to laugh, but it's relief I feel. Apparently he doesn't know this guy. Not as A. R. anyway.

"He has a ponytail," I say.

"Like Face?"

It's much better groomed than Face's bar-be-que grill-brush, but I don't say.

"You gonna work and I'll finish watching the ballgame?" I see he's laid out snacks. The dogs are around me saying hello, but then they are off wrestling lazily with one another.

I blush a little thinking of the bath idea. The whole thing…I don't know. I'll be the one naked. But…it won't last. He'll get ideas and I'll bet I won't be in that water alone.

"Well," I dig in my bag and pull the rubber duck out.

"Oh…yeah," he says, eyes big, then more narrow. Nice grin. "Yeah, Swan," he says taking the duck, but squeezing me.

So he goes right to the bathroom then and he's in there so long I do open another file and eat some of the popcorn he's got there. I throw some to the guys and they are all over it, then they sit there and watch every morsel as it makes its way into my mouth. So I don't get much done, but I've seen the file, read it actually, thought of things in my head. It's like that, almost like things resolve themselves without me. Divide and conquer is definitely my brain's floorplan. I am a multi-plex theatre with a different movie in every room and most of the time I'm watching them all.

When he finally gets back he is without a shirt, just his sleep-pants. He comes right to me and takes me by the hand and I rise and shut my laptop and set it to the side all at once. "Miss Swan."

He's my attendant now, and I'm at the spa. I laugh and follow after.

The bathroom looks nice, a couple of candles lit there. "Where'd you get candles?"

"They were under the kitchen sink. I guess when they showed this place they wanted to mask the empty dampness."

He turns to me. "Notice there are bubbles. Dish soap, but it's the kind nice to your hands."

This makes me laugh. "I have to do Billy's shopping. You can come and do yours."

"Now no talk of shopping, Miss Swan. This is a care-free zone. I can slip out while you slip in the water, or I can assist if you're feeling…the need."

I clear my throat. "Like…undress me?"

He just nods with this very energetic look on his face.

Can I do it? Here? Now?

I hold my arms out. "Go…for it."

He'd been tight-lipped, but he's showing teeth now, his hands going immediately for the bottom of my shirt. I move my arms straight up and he pulls off the shirt. My bra is just a flesh-colored geriatric affair. He steps close, reaches around and unclasps it in the back and gently pulls it off. "Miss Swan," he whispers, his eyes on 'them.' He makes himself look at my eyes, briefly, smiles a hoo-rah, and he's right back there.

I can hear his breathing. "We'll just…," he says like he's doing a great service and he's excited. He is lowering my sleep pants and I kick them off when they get down there with my shoes. Then it's just my underwear.

He stands up and rubs his hands together like he's stoking up for the big one and I have to laugh a little, and he's mister glee face, and he lowers my underwear. He makes a sound as he looks it all over and I kick out of my underwear and he helps me and I'm kind of mortified, horrified, and proud of myself all in one.

He still has my underwear dangling from his hand and I grab those and throw them in a corner and they look like a dust-rag over there.

He takes my hand and kisses it. "You're a goddess," he says.

I do a little laugh. Yeah I'm speechless. He leads me to the tub and I lift my leg rather gracelessly, probably shooting the beav right there and I have a flashing thought of Leah and what she'd say about this. One leg is in though, bubbles are thick, and I bring the next leg in and swiftly sink down like I've found a bush…so I can hide my bush.

"Sit back," he says, and he's got a wash-rag already, and I am in there, and oh my God it's the most lovely thing.

"You have to come with me," I say.

He looks at the rag, then seems to realize he can still wash me after he's in. He puts the rag down and peels off his pants, then lowers his boxers and 'boing.' Oh my god. I know I've seen it already, but we are not yet familiar and the shock value is still strong. That thing has presence.

I swallow thickly as he gets in, and I see the balls then, not so bad and close to his body and plump. He is smirking because yeah, I gawk like a Michigan hick. But dang who wouldn't. So he lowers Loch-ness in to the water.

"What were you thinking just now?" he says, big smile as the borderline hot as shit water covers his jewels.

"Read it," I say. He makes the hand cradle and fits it right over the factory.

"It's fuzzy. You're…dazzled."

"Think Scotland."

"Lochness," he says with eerie rapidity. "You saw the monster."

My jaw drops. "How in the hell…?"

He's laughing so loud it bounces off the walls and he keeps going. He grabs my foot and pulls me right up to the monster. If it was pointing at me instead of seeking air we'd be making that baby Mom is worried about.

It's lots of wet, naked kissing then. The feel of him, hot bubbles and seal-skin. He's going back and we are under the water kissing for a minute, then breaking above gasping and laughing.

"Hey," he says, stilling me all of a sudden. He puts his hand on my chin, pushes back my streaming hair, his face right there, our noses almost touching, my arms around his neck, his hands on my back and my ass. "You know you make me so happy, right?"

I pretend to look down at the creature hard and long against my stomach, then I look back at him. "Yeah."

"I ah…I hope this doesn't freak you out too much but…I'm in love with you."

It's a strange reaction, but I feel my face crumple, and the force of what I'm feeling, it's that quiet cry, that insanely quiet moment when everything builds. It's that feeling and I have little control, but I gasp first, and then the sound. It's a thin wail because I'm working on holding it in.

"Oh baby, no, no," he says cradling my head on his soapy slick shoulder. He's sincere but he's laughing too. "It's okay. Too much? Too soon?"

I sniff. It's about as sexy as my underwear, and magnified in this room. "I bathed here when I was a kid," I whisper.

"No shit?"

I laugh. "Well…you shouldn't ask."

He laughs too.

I am gross.

I kiss him then, because he's so wonderful, he's so all-encompassingly marvelous.


	27. Chapter 27

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 27

He's at the market—A. R.. He nods his head at me as he passes our booth carrying a bottle of water only. He barely glances at Edward. That one is standing in the middle of the flow of shoppers.

"Don't be a bumpkin. Buy a pumpkin!" Edward sings while he strums his guitar. It's kind of fascinating the way females of all ages gather around him here at the market. And some men, fathers of young children because they don't have a choice. Their children are eager to stop and listen to the guitar man. Some of them already know his name and they say, "Hi Edward." And besides the fleeting A. R. and the fathers of small children there are others, carefully coiffed men holding tote bags of peppers and green onions who also possibly find Edward as interesting…as beautiful as I do.

I scan the crowd for A. R.'s departing head. He's gone past. Now my good mood is a little choked.

But people continue to put their money in the carved out pumpkin Edward has placed by his feet. And every once in a while he looks at me and breaks into the endless song he writes while he sings, "She's a girl, she's a girl, she's a Nessie wrestling girl." Or some-such, then he adds in this narrative voice, "But I just call her bubbles." He winks at me.

I stare. I can't even worry when he's around. I know I'm blushing like a deep red. The bath, he's taken me there in front of everyone and we have this secret language now. I cross my ankles and smile.

Ned and Dusty aren't even responding to being petted anymore. They are like two black body pillows, lying under the table on their sides like a matched set while many hands, all sizes and colors pat them. They are the best kind of advertising for the shelter, but I fear hugely that someone will head to the doggie jail and get Lucky before I can so I text Barb. "Don't let anyone adopt that Lucky dog."

She texts back, "Luck will not run out." It's almost funny.

We make a killing. On the way home Edward counts the money and says, "We squashed it, baby."

"Puns are the humor of fathers," I quote with no room to talk.

"I probably fathered a few in my time," he sasses.

I swerve the truck a little.

He grabs around Dusty and puts his hand on the wheel. "Bella…you alright? Puns. I fathered puns."

I pull off the road and the one pumpkin we couldn't sell because Edward insisted we were taking it home to carve a jack-o-lantern and roast the seeds is rolling around in the bed of the truck.

A. R. may have disappeared in the crowd, but I can't get him out of my head. "Who are you? What are you? Billy says Witsec. You say no. What's your story? Tell me!"

"Where the hell did this come from…again? You know what I was doing this time last year? I'd just finished walking the Pacific Crest Trail. I finished in Canada. Over two thousand miles. It took me almost five months. That's where my guitar got beat up. I took it on the trail."

"Your stuff…."

"…I accumulated in Oregon where I wintered. I found this house on the internet. I knew I wanted to stay north. I liked it. This town is small, the house was cheap. It was random. I'm into random."

"Why Edward?"

"Because everything was planned before that. Every step. And it was a path that led to a box that was really a coffin."

"You were dying?"

"No. Yes. Symbolism!"

"Who are they…the ones you left behind?"

He's staring ahead and shaking his head. "I…was finished there. I was betrayed."

"How?"

He is silent a long time. Ned and Dusty have long realized they are not getting out. They've fallen asleep.

"I left it all on the trail, Bella." He looks at me. "It's not that I won't tell you, or you can't know…it doesn't matter. Just like I told you. I left it there and I swore I wouldn't pick it up again. I wouldn't speak about it or give it another minute. I'm telling you this because I love you. But I left it in a canyon on the trail."

"You didn't…push someone into the canyon or something?"

He laughs just a little, but his eyes are so sad. "No. It was real…but…I'm dramatic. No murder in my past. Nothing so exciting. Very little passion actually. Nothing like I've known with you." He looks away, his profile sad and beautiful.

"Your family…Edward."

He turns to me, something hard in his eyes now, "I don't have one. Not like you mean."

"I just want to understand," I say.

"It's not complicated," he smiles weakly. "I changed my course. You can, you know. Most of the time we don't believe it. It takes guts…but we're too afraid…too greedy…comfortable, even our misery gets so familiar it's comfortable. But it's possible…change. Radical change."

"You left your life."

"I found my life." He does hold my gaze now. "I found myself on the trail. Then I had the…clarity to recognize you. All that time…I was walking…toward you."

"Me. I'm hardly…."

"Don't put yourself down," he cuts me off. "I was open, that's all. And I found you. If I wouldn't have had the guts to leave…I would never have found you. Nothing I left…compares…Bella Swan. You're my prize."

"I'm sorry," I say. I'm a hell of a reward for walking that far. I know I'm only seeing this without dimension, but heck, I'm a realist occasionally. He's saying he slayed a dragon for me. But my father was no king, and I am no prize.

I've pushed but he's guarding. It's a tightly closed door, his past, with a lock and a key he's swallowed.

"Edward…you've been really brave," I say, but my voice is almost a whisper. He's a hard listener, he listens with his eyes and his ears…and his hands. So I swallow a couple of times. "But I wonder…are you brave enough to look back?"

"Understand something, Bella, I'm not in some kind of denial. I know exactly what I've let go of. I've done it fully aware…fully willing."

I am chewing my lip, an annoying habit that drives Renee crazy. "When you did that…threw it away…them away…did a big…," I'm shaking my head, looking out the windshield at the trees and the road searching for the right word like it's a possum out there, "chunk of yourself go too?"

"Do I seem like that to you? Like half a man?" He's a little tense, a little desperate.

I am already shaking my head. I didn't mean half, but maybe a sixteenth or something could be missing. "You don't…but I can't see inside you." For all I know it's Swiss cheese in there.

"You want to make it internal, then it's like this. I had two kidneys. Now I function just fine with one. Is there space? I hardly notice. It's better this way."

"You didn't…," I say urgently.

"It's a metaphor, Bella. I have both my kidneys." He has to laugh a little.

"Sorry," I mumble. "But you shouldn't say things…like that." Yeah, one of my movies in the multi-plex is always very literal—a black and white.

"Drive, Bella. Get the hell out of here before these mongrels wake up," he says, nose to nose with Ned who is already awake.

It's been a downer, the conversation. I'm sorry, but for what? I drive to the shelter. Edward has the money gathered, the change in a doubled plastic bag. We've made over six hundred. It's like the gates of heaven have opened and the manna is gold.

So we take that in, and the guys we left in the truck, but they are howling, and so is Lucky…and most of the prisoners.

I start to walk back there, where Lucky is.

"Swan," Edward is saying. "Swan? Don't do it. Don't…do it."

But I'm already back there and I'm unlatching the gate and Lucky bolts right out, runs all over the place, then turns and comes back to me, jumps and puts his paws on my shoulders and licks my face a few times. He's got it in the eyes, Lucky does, that soulful thing like his brothers…even more. He's good people. It was always him I was working my way to. Like Edward with me.

"Bella," Edward says softly as he approaches, and I hear him through the din.

I am stroking along Lucky's ribs. I'm going to reek. "He needs us," I say. He's so like Edward. That's what I think. The brother cut off from his brother…s.

"Babe…another one?"

"Yeah," I say and we look at each other and he knows…Edward knows.

So that's it. The ride home is crowded. We've let them bleed off some of their hysteria from the reunion in the pen. Ned and Dusty seemed to get a second wind around Lucky. They weren't entirely accepting of him, and they're both a little jealous of letting him in, but they're better now. They all seem a little tired.

"You're giving him to Billy?" Edward says.

"I don't know," I say. Mom is going to kill me, that's for sure. If she doesn't kill herself first. But I'm not giving Lucky to anyone.

At home it's a rodeo. I put Lucky in my yard and Edward puts Ned and Dusty in his, then those two spend all their time barking at Lucky so Edward does a crazy thing and attacks the fence and I say, "What are you doing?"

And he says, "Remodeling." And before I know it there's an opening in the fence and the three dogs are together again. We are watching them. I'm pretty starved and I'm thinking of so many things.

"Bella," Edward says, taking my hand. "One thing about the trail…I learned to make friends quick, move quick. I think I'm still doing it. Maybe I move too fast? But you have to know…I recognized you. That's why I…came right for you."

We're one of those crazy stories you hear…two weeks. And you kind of shudder because it makes no sense at all.

"He's your favorite…Lucky," Edward says out of the clear blue.

I gasp a little. He can read my mind.

"You waited for him. Why didn't you just take him first?" He's looking at me, really looking like he does. "You don't act on it…what you want. You do what you think is best," he says, still looking.

"Ned was the smallest," I say. "He needed Dusty and Lucky. We had to take Ned."

"Babe," Edward whispers, hugging me close.

"Dusty could live without Ned, but not Lucky. Lucky was always the one that kept them going."

I'm personifying. It's Black Beauty, only three dogs.

"He's you," Edward says.

"No. He's you." I look at Edward. "You can live without the others," I say. "You're strong. Stronger than I am."

He is shaking his head. "I'm not. I've got some guts, I've learned that, but I'm not stronger than you. Comes to you…I'm Ned."

"Why? I don't know what I do. Maybe if I did, I could understand."

He puts his hand on my face and strokes my cheek. "You're pure," he says.

"Because…," he knows what I'm going to say. Because I haven't slept with someone?

He's shaking his head again. "It's not one thing. It's everything."

"I'm not pure," I say. I reject that. It scares me that he thinks so highly. I have to tell him about phase one.

"Bella…you don't see yourself clearly. You're kind."

I think of what I said to Mom just last night…especially about getting off her ass…did I say that? I hope I only thought it. And some of the stuff I've done to Leah over the years. And Horny, don't get me started. And Jasper…well he deserves it. Horny too. And being trapped with Leah…who could blame me? And Mom…she's no picnic. But pure?

"You're kind," he says again, a smile so warm it feels like grace.

I lick my lips and he looks there and he laughs a little. "Should I kiss you now?"

"If you want," I say all raspy.

And he does.

But here's what I know. You don't let go of Edward Cullen. They haven't let go of him.


	28. Chapter 28

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 28

Mom is on the couch that evening. "I don't know what you're doing with all these dogs Bella," she says. Edward has Ned and Dusty and I have Lucky. I have been in my room working for Jasper, and I am in my underwear and I have come downstairs for an apple.

I go into the living room and she's sitting there. I turn on a light because she loves to sit in the dark and something about it always bugs me.

"Are you…staying home?" I say. I know she is as she's in her robe and pajamas. I am on a break from Edward. He's noticed I need one. I can't help it. I have to process and I have to work. I want him, feel pulled in the direction of his house and I'm trying to ignore it.

"Sit down, Bella."

I sit on the edge of the green chair.

"We had words last night," she says. "I was…out of line maybe?"

I shrug. "Yes."

"I guess…things are changing so fast," she says. I tighten up a little cause it is fast and I don't want to talk about that.

I am staring at her.

"I've been thinking…of moving out."

I sit straighter. "You can't."

"Oh really?"

"Where would you go? You've always lived here. It's your home."

She is shaking her head. She's threatened this before, and it's probably just a threat, but it always gets me going, worries me.

"My home," she folds her arms and looks off, snorts. "Maybe I'm tired."

"Mom…."

"Maybe I'm tired of living in his window," she says.

"He doesn't look out his window," I say. His chair isn't positioned to face it, not anymore. He's turned that chair sideways and he has to crane his neck to look.

"Maybe I'm tired of looking in yours!" She's not holding a drink, but she's had one. Or more.

"Stop looking," I say back sternly.

We sit there for a full minute, not saying a word.

"Are you coming to church in the morning?" she asks.

"Yes," I say. I wasn't, but I will now.

"Is…he?"

"I don't know. He didn't say." I didn't ask.

Lucky comes in to the living room and lays down by my chair.

"What are you going to do with all these animals?"

"It's just Lucky," I say. He hears his name and puts his head on my leg.

"Jace…is married," she says.

I can't imagine someone actually made vows to the pirate, but I stopped being surprised by older peoples' love triangles and octagons and trapezoids a long time ago. Mom and Horny have over-exposed me to all of it.

"Hope you…were safe. That guy…."

"Oh you judge me?"

"Mom," I say, ready to bolt.

"I know you think it's different, but we're all looking for love, Bella."

I didn't know she was looking for love. I thought she was looking for a drink and a dance and a good time.

"Would you get married again?" I say.

She runs her hand over the sash on her robe. "I don't know. Right guy? Who knows. We've got a cute guy moved into the rental. Maybe I'll go for him."

She looks at me and has this face…like up my ass or something.

"Mom. " If I say a flat out no she'll go for it. I do not want A. R. in this house. "Are you moving?"

"I'm thinking about it."

Money is the thing. She doesn't make enough. I can't support her in another place. I don't want to do that. "Move in with Alice?"

"Huh. Jasper Whitlock has done that."

I'm mad. "For real?" That's an obscene commute.

She smirks and flips her sash around.

"What about you? Things are obviously progressing. Think you can trust him?" she says.

I feel the gates moving into place. She's not getting in. Not through me.

"He's a good person," I say.

"Oh," she says, exaggerated lift of her chin. "They all are in the first five minutes, darlin'."

I'm not going to argue. Mom comes in knowing everything. She's not a listener.

"Guess this day was coming," she sighs.

"What day?"

"You wanting me out. Wanting your own way."

"I never said that. Is that why you're talking about moving?"

"Well you can't live over there, can you? Although you've been spending enough time over there. Even the night? Come on. All these years you can't set foot in the place and now you're practically living there."

"Do you want me out…of here?"

"Well…I know this might come as a complete shock, Bella, but if you were over there…maybe I could think of getting serious with someone."

I cry bullshit, but it still hurts. "I haven't kept you from…,"

"Don't even start that…crap. You know as well as I do you've been…slow to…get out there."


	29. Chapter 29

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 29

I am at his door. He is back in his room and the dogs send up the howl and Lucky is agitated and I hear his steps to the door, his stern voice dealing with the dogs. He pulls it open and I'm there, his eyes take it in, all the crap I carry.

He stands back and I enter. "I…," I start to say but there's no finish so I'm standing there.

"You have a fight?"

He knows.

"You look upset, Bella."

"Mom. We…have been fighting."

That's the thing. It's been like this.

I go to the couch and drop my things and just look at him.

"Well you can stay here," he says. "You know that. Mi casa…and all."

I nod. It's very kind. I have so many homes—Merle and Pearlie, Billy, even Leah would take me in, now here…Edward. I'm very blessed. And the dogs, it's a three-way, noses, tails, huff-puff.

"Ned," Edward says sharply. Wouldn't you know the most afraid is the worst now that he's loved? Love just makes us crazy…and no love? Crazier.

"I sure don't have any answers," I say like we've been talking about something that makes sense.

He laughs a little. "No anwers? I thought you were the answer."

I have to laugh. I hope his eyes are wide open.

He is close, then closer. "Need an egg sandwich?" His brows…he lifts them, and the eyes…well you laugh. It's all you can do. There's never, at any time, anything subtle about his face. If he's sultry you die for the handsome, if he smiles better get your sunglasses, if he's silly, you have to laugh even if you're worried about your mother and if he's sad, your own heart remembers all the things it's sad about. He breaks you wide open anyway you go. Well he does me. He reflects humanity in the most beautiful way. He's an exaggeration…of everything.

Here's what's funny. He makes me the egg sandwich and I sit in his kitchen and wait while he cooks, same unwashed pan he used for himself earlier. "Want cheese?" he asks because he has sliced sharp cheddar, the best kind for egg sandwiches, he told me earlier in Wal-Mart. But that's not what's funny, but this is-I've done this before, here. So many times before. This house…it was my refuge. That was the thing…not church. That's for Renee. But this house. Not pastor Aro. But Freida. This was the place I could come. Before Merle. Before Billy. Before Leah. Before Edward. It was Freida. And I wouldn't have to say…what was happening at home. I never had to say. But I could come here, slip in the unlocked door, go to the couch where she sat, even then, head back, mouth open snoring while her stories were on, her black metal T. V. tray holding her jelly doughnuts and her medicine, her cold cup of pale coffee I never understood the need for.

I could come here and sit next to her, me small, her safe, put her arm over me, her wing and me a little chicken who didn't make a peep if she could help it, but who snuggled up to her side.

It was always that way as if God himself had set this place aside for me. Until….

I slip off Edward's stool and go in the living room and I look at that wall, the one with the boxes of books still sitting there, a million tales already told and holding, but none of them the one I know, the best seller in my head, always showing at move-plex two. I look at those boxes and they are slowly going away, and it's her legs I remember, akimbo I think they call it, spread, bent. I see red.

My Freida.

His hand on my arm. "Your sandwich is ready," he says.

I follow him into the kitchen.


	30. Chapter 30

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 30

"Do you want hot sauce on that?" he asks me going to the pantry.

I shake my head. I don't want anything. To eat. But I need the focus. The kindness. That's all. That's everything.

"You were staring at my boxes again," he says setting the bottle before me.

Not at them, through them. But I don't say. I like his long fingers on the bottle, the sensitivity in his touch…the musician…the listener.

"You think I'm a slob. I'm going to order shelves…from Ikea. I was going to ask if you could let me…borrow your laptop…and your connection. You could help me…pick them out. I know you have a lot of important stuff on there…your machine. The formula for world peace."

"I do have that. Stop killing. All killing," I say.

He laughs. "Let's see…Cain meant to kill Abel, didn't he? I mean we got right to it?"

It's the first recorded murder. "Yes," I say. "Right to it."

"Pre-meditated."

"Yes. Hated Abel's guts. Jealous."

Merle again. One of mine and Leah's fights. Jealousy leads to murder. Got it. But I had it before…before Merle. I mean the lesson. I had the lesson…the scar.

"I forgot that," Edward says, leaning on the island where I eat my sandwich.

I can't forget. But I can be different. I can set my routine, be vigilant, be committed, be kind. I can do so much.

So I pick at the crust on my sandwich.

"Swan…don't make me feed you," he says, sweet smile. It's in his voice too…the smile. "If you're worried about her…you could call. Tell her goodnight."

It sounds reasonable. But she's not reasonable.

I clear my throat, "When Merle and Pearlie move…."

"They're movng?"

"When they do…I think Leah will go. I think she'll move to be with her uncles."

"Okay. Is that okay?"

I look at him. "If people can't change…they die. Inside. And outside."

He blinks. "Oh. Okay. Yeah that's possible. You think Leah might die? She looked pretty healthy…."

"I think she has to change if she wants to...grow and stuff."

His eyes narrow, and his mouth loses its curve. "Yeah."

"And Merle is taking Pearlie to Florida. They…have this daughter."

"Hey…I'm jealous. No…not that I'll kill them or anything."

I refuse to smile. "Billy…he needs me."

"He needs a new leg. That thing he straps on when he's being good Billy? It's a mummy."

I do kind of smile. "What?"

"It's like a mummy's leg. It's Boris Karloff or something. Dude, get current, you know? What's the deal there?"

Edward retrieves his new dishrag, also Wal-Mart, and starts to wipe down the island. "If I lost a leg I wouldn't be strapping the old Model-T on, you know? I'd have the most super-sonic, aero-dynamic, spring loaded piece of titanium or whatever-the-fuck. What is with that guy?"

"Did you tell him?"

"Sort of. He said that thing, paint my walls tell me what kind of leg, blah-blah. His go-to is asshole. Nah, he's a good guy." He's scrubbing with two hands now, like he's a galley-hand and this is the ship's nasty spit-ridden floor. It's pretty well gleaming in here.

I take a bite of the sandwich.

"Hey there's a new guy nextdoor," he says. His back is to me as he rinses the rag, shakes it out.

"Did you…meet him?" I say.

"Yeah. No name, just initials. Pretentious shit maybe. But hey, it's a rental made out of saltines and duct-tape so give us a name like Arnie Rabbit or something."

I want to laugh and be the light-hearted girlfriend, but why start now?

"What did you say? What did he say?" I ask.

"Wow. He's not…Gandhi. He's J. R."

"He said J. R.?"

"Something. I don't remember. He said he met you."

"You talked about me?"

"No. He said he'd met my neighbor and I said…okay. That was about it." He's smirking at me. "You want to hear it?" He walks around the island to where I sit. "Yeah, he said, hey, who's the lucky guy banging that girl with the cute little," he looks at my boobs and grunts, "and the," he gets close enough to drag his hand down my back and squeeze my ass as it's bulging on top of the stool a little.

I sit up straight.

"Sorry," he says, not at all sorry.

"Yeah, I got that vibe from him," I say, and I drop my head down while I pick apart the sandwich and take another bite. Now I am trying not to smile.

"Bella," he says pushing my hair over my shoulder. "Bella Marie."

I won't look at him. I almost have my nose in my plate and I'm shoveling in bites with my fingers but I start laughing.

He is behind me and puts his arm around me and he's laughing against my hair. "Him I may kill," he says.


	31. Chapter 31

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 31

Sunday morning we are not at church with Mom. We are at the park, the same one we'd taken that nap at before. We are here with the three dogs. And Billy. He doesn't know why he consented to this, he says, but he did consent. So he's with us.

Before we'd left home Billy had insisted we put his old camper top over the bed of my truck, so Edward and me dug it out of his mouse-ridden shed and used eight C-clamps to secure it to the bed of my vehicle, and the Amigos rode back there and it was a pretty great way to get around with them.

On the ride over here Edward was in a talkative mood. He said he had spent last winter in Oregon watching things like The Dog Whisperer. He said he watched so much television he caught up on whole years of programming. All his adult life he'd been busy. Then he left everything and walked the trail. When he was finished with the trail he lived in a motel and bought notebooks so he could write a book. But there was a secondhand bookstore nearby so he read books instead. Then he degenerated to binging on T. V..

He wasn't going to admit the television binge, but then he said, why not, and told me and Billy about it. He said he would get hooked on one show for a while, then another. He said ultimately television, even the good stuff, does not lift one's soul.

We had so much in common. Too much television was like too much fast food. I pretty much loved it, and then I got sick of it. But about the binging, I did that, with cooking shows, and decorating shows. I'd been obsessed more than once.

And he had walked the trail, but I had walked just as far doing patrol, just not all at once.

He left his past in a canyon, but I'd broken mine into bits I carried in my pocket and dropped like bird seed one night at a time. I felt a little lighter…eventually. Was it like that for him?

So Billy is seated at a picnic table holding Dusty's leash. I have Lucky, of course, and Edward has Ned. Edward is in charge. He thinks he is Ceasar Millan but he's so earnest I don't comment and I hope Billy lets him have this.

"No," he's correcting me, "babe you have to be Alpha. You have to be in charge."

"I was…"

"You were just suggesting. You're too polite. You're re-enforcing his bad behavior."

"What bad behavior? I said 'good boy.'"

"You don't need to praise him like that. Now do the sound."

"I don't like that sound," I say. I don't get the sound. It's not the way Lucky and me communicate. When I make my funny sound, my neck-sound, it's never voluntary.

I hear Billy laugh. I don't mean to make a fool of Edward but I don't like the sound thing.

"Remember not to let him pull. And start off with the foot nearest him," Edward adds.

I try again and Edward has more corrections. He is patient, and bossy and very eager. I don't want to take this so seriously though because Lucky and me will work it out eventually.

"No, no babe," he's saying. "Hold Ned and I'll show you." He already has Ned trained. It took fifteen minutes. Actually Ned has trained him. I have reasons for saying this. He's not as successful as he wants to believe. Ned is more shy, more open to suggestion than Lucky or Dusty. He's only listened because he's intimidated by Edward and not sure what he wants.

Edward calls to Billy. "Now Billy, you can work on lay, like I showed you, you pull on the leash, toward the ground. Can you get that low…?"

Billy clicks his tongue and points to the ground and Dusty lies down.

Edward looks at me then Billy. "Holy shit, that's good, Billy."

Billy snaps his fingers and makes a small upward motion while he does and Dusty rises to a sit. Billy doesn't even pat Dusty and he sits there patiently giving Billy the deep eyes, then his paw comes onto Billy's leg and you can feel the respect.

Edward looks at me again. "He's a whisperer."

He's pack leader. I don't want to say this to Edward, because Ned is now rolling on his back trying to get a scratch while he twists his hind-end this way and that and flails his legs around. And whines.

"Ned," Edward rebukes but Ned ignores him. Edward makes the sound, the click, and Ned sits and wags his tail but he's quickly bored so he flops onto his belly again. "No," Edward says and Ned sits up.

"Now you try Bella," he says, sweep of his hand.

Try what? Lucky is sitting on my foot. I think I'll try to get him off by moving my foot out from under him. It works.

"I think I'll walk him around and practice," I tell Edward. I am trying to escape. So I do.

1111111111111111111111111111

"The guys will be alright back there while we go in," Edward is saying later as we sit in the diner's parking lot. The memory of chicken dinner is strong in each of us it seems. We want that chicken so badly we might be willing to face that crowd to get some.

"I haven't been in there for ten years," Billy says.

"I'll bet it hasn't changed," Edward says.

I think that's the problem…for Billy, but I don't say anything.

"Mom's in there," I say, not to encourage…or discourage, but the truth sets you free and I hate surprises. I don't see Horny's car. Or Jasper's.

But I'm not breaking my neck to look. Edward is the first to open his door. Then Billy. Edward comes around but he stands back. Billy has made it clear he can do it. He has the leg on, and he takes a few extra seconds, and he's a little graceless, but he gets it done. I am the last out, of course, and Edward does hold the door now. It's nice, but pointless.

So we are the Amigos walking in to the diner. Nothing happens at first. We are a strange group, but between Edward's beauty and Billy's gait, we get some looks. And why am I with the two of them? I know that's a point of curiosity.

I see Pearlie's hair right off, and Merle. Leah. Mom is there. She's with A. R., or possibly J. R.. Are you kidding me? Guess she went for him. For all I know he's been to church too. He might even be converted by now. She'll surely boink him for that.

She sees us, well we're hard to miss for reasons already stated. And Billy knew about the whole town once. I don't wave to her. But she knows I see her…and him.

There is one empty table beside Merle and Pearlie and Leah and Merle is already asking the girl to move it against theirs and make a longer table so we can sit together.

We follow the girl and there's some chair scraping and then we sit. We say helloes. Edward shakes Merle's hand. It's such a funny custom, the handshake. It's a man thing, a, 'I won't steal your woman thing,' not that Edward has ever given Pearlie the vibes, but he's inherited this custom, and he complies.

Billy has beads of sweat on his forehead. "You alright man?" Edward asks.

"Fine," Billy says, but the bloodlessness makes his dark skin pale.

We order for three and Billy gets black coffee. The others have already ordered.

"Merle's sister's husband looked just like Clark Gable," Pearlie tells me. "Only black, of course."

A black Clark Gable? I guessed it was possible, but Leah kicks me under the table for old times and we smile at Pearlie. She's eying up Edward. Well who can blame her in that blue shirt with the rolled sleeves and that longish hair and that face? I have to stare at my plate a minute.

Then Leah kicks me again, and I glare at her. She does it again I'm going to let her have it.

Billy looks around a little but not so much. A man comes up to him, engages him in talk. Then another. Billy is bragging on Jacob going in to the military. But all Billy really knows is he moved out to live with some girl. He doesn't say that, just says Jake's in the military.

He introduces Edward and they say they know me, knew me when I was little. Knew Dad. Know Mom. Yeah I've seen them both.

Our food comes quick and we're left alone.

Billy seems more relaxed, and Edward's leg is against mine. He serves me everything. He holds some of it on the spoon, raises his brows and I nod and he puts some on my plate, then his own. Merle does the same for Pearlie. Leah smirks when she notices and shakes her head. Sue me.

"You gonna feed her too?" Billy asks, eyes on his plate. Leah loves this. Over-laughs, and there is such a thing.

"If she wants me to," Edward says grinning at me, just no shame.

I smirk back but I know I'm red.

I can't think of too much more than Mom eating with the creeper.

Then she comes over…Mom. "Well, glad to see you're up and around." She says this to Billy. Maybe to me.

Edward greets her, "Morning Renee."

"You met our new neighbor?" she asks sweetly gesturing toward their table on the other side of the room thank God. Creeper isn't there—call of duty I guess.

"Yeah," I say and Edward says. Billy keeps eating.

"He sure is interested in you," she tells Edward. "Asks how long I've known you. What I know about you."

"Me?" Edward says before poking a fork full of mashed potatoes in his mouth. He lays the fork down, works his napkin over his lips.

"Nice to see you about," Mom says to Billy.

He barely looks at her. "What's nice about it?"

"Day was…you were the life of the party."

Billy side-glances at her. "Got me mixed with someone else," he says.

"Oh no," she says. Of course these two together, well there's plenty in here notice Mom and Billy in close proximity with their flaming history. But there's about nothing these days between these two. Too much of nothing.

So she waves her fingers and meets Creeper in the middle of the room and they walk back to their table, thank God. If she'd of brought him over to us I wasn't sticking around for it. "He asks about you?" I say to Edward and everyone is listening, waiting for Edward's reply.

"Maybe he's homosexual," Pearlie says, and Leah's face goes in to her napkin while her shoulders shake. Edward looks at me quickly and smiles.

Then to Pearlie he says, "Why Miss Pearlie, my heart belongs to Bella Swan." He grabs my hand then and lifts it and kisses my knuckles right there in front of God and chicken.

So he has declared himself—come out of the closet, so to speak, and the closet…is mine.

Merle sputters as he's getting a drink of his water. Leah looks up from her napkin, a smile on her face as she looks at Merle. Like me, she loves Merle's subdued reactions to everything Pearlie says and does, but Leah's smile quickly melts. "Merle?" she says.

Merle's face has reddened, and he pulls at his neat bow tie.

"What's the matter?" Leah says, and all eyes are on Merle. Then Merle face plants in his mashed potatoes and Pearlie's mouth drops open, but it's Leah who screams Merle's name.

"Billy calls for an ambulance, and everyone is on their feet. Some of the main occupations around here have to do with some form of health care, and one of the local EMT's is already on her phone. She and others have Merle stretched out on the floor and they are checking for breath sounds and starting CPR.

I go to Leah right away. She's nearly hysterical. Pearlie doesn't know what hit her, and Edward is with her telling Pearlie they will help Merle."

"But he was drinking his water," Pearlie says.

"They know how to help him Miss Pearlie," Edward says, shielding Pearlie from the growing crowd.

"Give him air," one of the EMT's, and there are two now and a nurse on the floor around Merle. One of them is on his cell with the ambulance, I assume. He's saying they can't get a pulse.

They keep working. "Is he going to breathe?" Pearlie asks Edward. Leah has gotten hold of herself and she goes to Pearlie. I am behind her and Edward is helping her to stand.

"C'mon, Miss Pearlie. Let's get outside so we can follow the ambulance."

One of the EMT's have dug Merle's keys out of his pocket and gives those to Edward. "I'll follow the ambulance Bella. Leah can go with us to help Pearlie and you and Billy can follow in the truck?" Edward asks.

"Go with them," Billy says to me. "I'll get the truck home."

I want to protest, but if he can do it, it would help. The dogs need someone to look out for them or I wouldn't worry about it at all.

So we work our ways to the front of the restaurant and the guys from the ambulance are coming in with the bed as we're going out.

Pearlie is quiet and overwhelmed and Edward is practically carrying her outside while Leah hangs on and I follow. We get Pearlie in the car and Leah and me pile in the back and Edward starts Merle's car as we watch them bring him out and load him in. We follow the ambulance then.

"Poor Merle," Pearlie finally says as we follow the ambulance at a good pace.

Leah has her hand on Pearlie's shoulder. Leah's face is wrecked. She looks at me, and we quickly clasp hands. Yeah. This is bad.

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

I picture death like this—someone crosses the River Jordan, the dark waters closing over their head and they keep walking on the river's bottom until they can surface again. Now the good thing, they've been pulled the whole way, whether it's a hand holding on to them or just a forceful current, even a rip tide because anything is possible, but they've been unable, maybe unwilling to resist the pull of this water. So they finally get to the place where the water overhead is diminishing enough they can see, they can feel the light coming back, and after some steps their head surfaces, but they don't take a breath.

They don't need one.

And they're looking forward at all this…beauty. And they walk right out of that river into this marvelous light and in that light, those they've loved and longed for…start to emerge, arms out-stretched, hands reaching. They are home.

And no matter how much it hurts to stand at the casket, to make sure Pearlie has a chair while Pastor Aro speaks in a velvet voice about Jesus and heaven, to have your arm around her as she touches that same box for the last time, to drive away from Merle's remains laying in that box like a precious piece of jewelry…no matter how much…you wouldn't call him…them…back from that place to go through it all again. Not once they've made their journey.

Donna is taking Pearlie home. Leah is going along until Pearlie is settled. She tells me the night of the burial when I'm walking. I can't believe her courage. I know how it is for shut-ins. A small victory, one most people don't even think twice about, a shut-in will just gloat over forever, like God has spoken from Mount Sinai and written some new law into stone, something that says, "You are not a loser afterall."

Leah is so fixated on Pearlie, she's forgotten to be afraid of the rest of the world. She's shutting this place up, boarding her pets with Barb and taking off for Florida with Pearlie and Donna.

I'm jealous, I'm threatened, I'm happy, I'm filled with admiration. Mostly I'm relieved Pearlie will have someone who loves her enough to put herself second. The way Merle always did.

1111111111111111111111111111111111111

Then there's Billy, proud of himself for having gone in the diner on Sunday. Proud of himself for going to Merle's funeral on Wednesday. He's Mr. Man-about-town now. He went to Wal-Mart with me and Edward on Monday. He wanted to pick out some things for Dusty and get a new shirt for the funeral. I flick my light at the crack in those new drapes, and he flicks his light back the way Merle used to. See that's why we do it, to remember Merle.

That's when it hits me and I don't see it coming. I'm thinking I've got it under control, but what do I really control? That's when I leave off the back half of my walk and run to Edward's. I don't knock, I don't have to. I pretty well stay here now. He's in the kitchen finishing the dishes and he's holding a box of Saran Wrap we just bought on our trip to Wal-Mart with Billy and he throws that down as I throw down my light. He grabs onto me because I've slammed into him.

I'm just crying. He's held me for three nights now, and he'll hold me for three nights more, three nights at a time all the way into the future I hope. I don't want to be anywhere else but where I am now in these arms.

"I've…got to…tell you something," I say, crying and breathing and wet and snot coming.

He doesn't have a thing to say. He grabs the nearest thing, a papertowel and wipes my face and I grab it and scrub and throw it aside. "Edward…I love you. From my soul."

I can breathe a little now. I'm just staring at him and I quiet some but I've got hic-cups.

His hands on my clammy face, and we are looking at one another. I do and I will. A soft kiss.

He pulls me in and I lay my cheek on the wet spot I've made on his shirt. He has walked me into the bedroom, well we'd been moving, and I'd barely noticed. But he's undressing me in there, and then he leads me to the bed and he undresses himself and I am watching him, it's all I want, all my eyes want, all my mind wants, and he climbs in beside me and he puts the covers over me and pulls me to himself and his leg over me even, wraps me in him like he's my mummy-clothes, my burrito shell, my second skin.

He hugs me hard the way I need it. I whisper, "Harder," because I can't get enough. This is how we become one. And after a while, we both know it's time. There's not a lot of preparation, just our whole time together, this third week, our crash-course in one another. He is careful as he pushes into me, and it hurts for just a minute, not so bad, but when he tries to pull out of me, I won't let him. It's only pain, and I know pain, but this is the kind of hurt that leads to something more, something so good I see the light too, for just a flash, as Edward joins with me, fills me with himself, with his heat and strength and tells me how he loves me, loves me, and I know it's okay…for Merle…it's okay…I can let him be…let him go…I have love. I'm loved. And I love. I love. I love.


	32. Chapter 32

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 32

Many things are true at the same time—good-bad, sense and madness, love and contempt, safety-peril. Many things are true at the same time. We have, we are, we lose, we ache, we fight, we freeze. It can all be true and all at once.

We want it narrowed down. We want it in the simplest form. We want one thing. If it's good, it can't be bad. If it makes sense it can't be crazy. If we love it, we can't also hate it. But many things are true, all at once. I know this. I am real. I am a ghost. I am here.

There is the one thing you see, the fifty things you don't, the hundred things you can never see with the human eye—like somebody's heart. You can't see it. Or motives. You can't see their motives. You can't read their minds. Only Edward can do that, and then only with me. You can't know their pain, how deep. You can't weigh the damage.

We don't even have the lights on. We are just so small.

"I was always here," I whisper to him that night as we lay wrapped together. "This was my home," I say. My safe place I do not add, for that hasn't changed.

"She worried I had Autism. She knew there was something…different. But Freida told her I just needed more time. And love. But it wasn't something Mom could trust."

"Like a wives' tale?" Edward asked, lazily stroking up and down my arm.

"I'm going to say this…whisper it." I taste my lips, the comfort of him there, baptismal salt. "She…needed something to be wrong with me." Oh there it is, one piece, one piece, one jagged piece.

I can't say more. I can't tell it. I worked so hard to make us something…normal. But she needed something to be wrong…with me.

His hand is on my back. "It's alright, Bella," he says.

I don't know. I want it to be. But I have pictures in my head, snapshots of her. I told you I'd opened doors. But not everything has had the courage to come out…to be seen…heard. Because I don't know.

"She cried a lot. She left me with Freida during the day. She took classes…for a long time. It was the only way out for her. She loved art…my art. She never understood me, but the art…she liked that. I think it was the one thing she believed came from her. Other than that…I was his alien who'd grown in her body and came out to deliver his guilt…forever."

"Bella," Edward whispers, but he does not mean to interrupt. He'd holding me and his arms create the right environment…a new environment…for the ghost girl inside me.

"I knew I couldn't take her place…the damsel…in the tower. I knew I had to grow up another way. I had to take it away…."

"Take what?"

"Being…desirable. To men. I couldn't do that…take that."

"I don't understand."

"You shouldn't. No one should understand this," I say.

Silence. Dog toenails on the wooden floor, the sound of bones caving to lie on the soft honeyed wood.

"My father was there…but the good times…she would dress up and they'd take themselves away and I'd be glad and think it would be better. But it was never better. The next morning when I went home, furniture might be overturned, evidence of bad weather in some of the rooms, and the silence of them sleeping in, but often not in the same bed…same room.

"She didn't talk, she wailed. She talked in this plea, or this angry shrill sound, and he didn't talk, he endured and then he blew up. When he went for her, I ran. I always ran. For Freida. She wouldn't ask. This is where I came."

"Not Billy's?"

"Not the same thing. Billy had…a sick wife. Jacob."

"Was he different from your dad?"

"They were both cops…but Billy had less…anger. Sometimes, I went for him. She'd say, 'get Billy,' and I would. I would run to their house, Jacob would see me, 'Dad,' he'd call, 'it's Bella.' And sometimes he'd say it so tiredly. He knew I was taking his dad.

"So Billy was our hero…and his wife was always sick. And one time…it had been brewing…and I was staying at Freida's…with Leah. Pajama party. Friday night. It had been so bad between them…and Frieda was giving us this…school was out.

"And he came home early…too early for Friday night. But he was here…at Freida's…crossed the border cause Freida's was mine…he was wild, came right in without knocking…Leah in the corner with her dolls and I was playing with mine…on the couch…I knelt there and…she was dancing…my doll…and angry boots on the porch and in he came. His gun was in his hand.

He screamed for Mom and Freida came from the kitchen…and he shot her. He just…he shot her."

"Why?" Edward whispered, his arms pulling me so tight against him. "Bella…."

"I am ten years old. I heard this sound from Leah…and he's blinking and he comes over to me, his fingers on my shoulder, he lifts me like that and I'm walking, wide steps on my toes…."

"Babe," Edward says. "Babe," and he kisses my hair.

"He drags me outside…not that I resisted. I am so light and little, I know I can get picked up by the wind, and I want it to be over…just over…just over. I feel…in his hand…he doesn't love me. He doesn't love, but he picks me up with one arm around my back, my chest pressed against his, my hands and feet hanging, he holds me without a care, but I see his lips up close as they speak, the spit flying, and the red in his eyes.

"Billy is in the street. A gun…and a gun…and the sounds of their voices the desperate pleas…and the love…is in Billy. My hero. I know this. But I don't want saved. I have already died."

Edward holds me as tight as he does when he holds me as tight as he does.

"The scar?" Edward says, and I feel his dread.

"Beyond Billy, there is Mama, standing on Billy's porch, the afghan from Billy's chair wrapped around her. Her shirt is off. I see this so clearly, her bare shoulder and the strap from her bra. She screams his name. Billy's name."

"Billy's name," Edward repeats.

"Charlie shoots. Billy goes down but he fires. When Charlie falls he takes me down and I am over him, feel him gone, his arm loosens and falls away and I know that we are leaving. I roll off of him and over me is this shape, and I wait for the big angel to take me. I am not afraid…I'm relieved. I can be dead now."

More silence. Screaming then, and noise and sirens. And the angel bends closer...but it's Freida, her face, and she touches me, over my heart….

The one who's around me then, the one who speaks to me, reaches me…is Billy. I think…it was Billy all along, but his leg is shattered. Billy crawled to me.

"I saw Freida," I say, "after…she came to me."

Edward doesn't speak. But I do not disappear in his arms. The ghost is wearing flesh and blood. The ghost has found her voice.


	33. Chapter 33

Thanks readers.

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 33

There is a ten year old girl who's lost her wings. She comes home from the hospital but she stays in her room. Her mother cajoles her out with a new Barbie doll. Go down to the coffee table. I bought you something.

She doesn't want to go down to the living room. She is not living anymore. But her mother prevails and so she goes down the steps and she can see the bright pink package, the coffin with the doll in it, waiting for the girl's hands and voice to bring her to life.

But the girl turns and runs back up the stairs, trips and keeps going until she's in her room, until she can close her door and dig her way in to the back of her closet.

Her mother puts the doll on her bed, and later, when the girl comes out of the closet she sees the doll, freed from her package, posed by her mother to stand and look ready for the beach.

The girl stares at the doll and tries to figure out how to get around her, how to shove her under the bed where she'll never have to see it again.

At first she's afraid. But then she feels something more, something that wants to break loose and make the loudest noise. So she screams and grabs the doll and runs from her room and throws the doll down the stairs.

Her mother finds it, picks it up. Her mother stands at the bottom of the stairs, the doll in her hand the way the gun was in his. Her mother yells her name and says she has to stop being like this, she has to try to be normal. She has to try.

The girl is not against normal. She just doesn't know how to find it. She doesn't know what it is now with the rooms so quiet, so free of his angry voice and his violence. She doesn't know what it is with her mother home, with Freida gone and her house stained and silent, with Jacob angry and distant, with her hero fighting…in the hospital.

She doesn't know how to go outside when she carries this scar…no one can see…burned into her, this mark…that sets her apart…from normal.

That fall she goes to school, but the first day she leaves and walks home. The school calls her mother. Renee comes home, frantic, searching for her daughter. She finally thinks to look in the girl's closet, and there she is, hugging her knees.

Merle comes every day. He has books and paper, and ideas. He looks at all of her art the way some people notice nature and talk to God. Merle considers the artist.

She can explain the pictures and they start there. They are not necessarily good, they do not necessarily show talent, but they reveal the artist she was…then. And they make her remember herself…before.

So it starts around her art, and it segue-ways to Leonardo De Vinci. She likes Leonardo and the way he captures spirit along with flesh. Along with soul. Merle explains the difference. De Vinci paints the layers of human life, the layers which lead to the divine…the Artist. He paints the Artist in the man.

Who can do that? Who can paint the seen and the unseen?

But it's there. In the Mona Lisa. Most say this is the most famous painting in the whole world. She is no more beautiful, perhaps not as beautiful as others, Merle says. But it's the light. That's why people have lined up for centuries to gaze upon her. They are drawn to the light in her face.

This girl may be ten years old but she is captured by this idea. She knows it's there…the light. She knows what she's looking at in De Vinci's work. She knows because she's seen it's opposite…her father's lips, her father's eyes, her father's deeds. There's her father…but there's Mona Lisa.

The dark proves the light, Merle says. And De Vinci captured the light and Merle says, it's her job to find it in every created thing…the light. It's her job to allow it to be free in herself…the light. It's her job to move as far away from the darkness as she can…to find the light and give that away and to encourage it in others.

"Is this normal?" she asks.

"It is exceptional," Merle says.

"Is exceptional better?" she asks.

"Yes," Merle says.

She has no idea how to do this, be this light, but the idea is a rope, and she's holding it.

By this time Leah's mother has asked…Leah won't go to school.

And that's how it begins, the three of them, Merle's lofty ideas, the girl's hunger for them and Leah's droll humor as she sighs deeply while Merle and the girl go off into the endless possibilities…the stars.

All that fall and some of the winter Billy is in the hospital. Sue can barely take care of herself. Renee takes food Sue won't eat.

Jacob is a ward of the street, mostly staying with Merle and Pearlie. But more and more the girl takes responsibility for him. It keeps her from thinking of herself. Jacob is a lost puppy with no one to love. He moves toward her.

It's important for Jacob to stay in school. From the hospital Billy insists. He feels Jacob has too many uncertainties and needs the familiar routine. Billy is a man of uniforms and discipline. It's all he can give Jacob…from a distance.

Merle does what he can to catch Jacob up, for he's not been able to start with his class. But by Halloween he is back in the classroom, often raising holy heck, but he's there.

And Billy comes home and Sue goes in to the hospital for the last time. By Thanksgiving she's in the ground and Merle is driving Billy back and forth to physical therapy.

And Jacob belongs to the girl. No more dolls. Just real things now, hurting things. The girl grows strong for him. And Leah. She takes care of them, corrects their school work, makes Jacob use the right colors on his homework, turns his backwards letter around, lectures him, rebukes him, mothers him, fathers him.

Billy loses his leg. She takes him treats. He does not give her his light. He has no light now.

It's Pastor Aro, it's Merle. By the next fall Billy emerges in a chair and he goes up and down in the street, up and down, faster and faster. And her mother stands in the window and watches and smokes and is silent. And slowly the girl takes care of her too.

And Jacob wants to run after Billy all the time, and he does, but sometimes Billy won't let him so he sulks, he gets in trouble at school, and he spends as much time at the girl's house as he does his own.

And one night, the girl stands on the porch with Jacob and they are counting the times Billy goes up and down, up and down, and Bella feels safe, and Jacob is proud.

Billy flashes his light at them, and they run to him. He sends Jacob in to the house to get ready for bed. Jacob lets the door slam. He gives the girl the flashlight he takes on his runs. "You're my deputy now," he says.

"For what?" she asks.

"For the street. You and me…we'll keep the bad guys out," he says.

Then he wheels away and she stares after and figures well, he needs this light, so she runs after and she turns on the light and tries to run fast enough to keep the bright circle before him. But he doesn't want that. He sends her to the sidewalk, his side of the street. He says he'll take hers. He tells her to stay even. And they walk.

It's Billy who tugs on the rope in her hand, the rope put there by Merle and Leonardo De Vinci. It's Billy who teaches her to climb.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 111

I have told Edward this, in the dark.

"My Bella, my Bella," he says to me. He cries for me. He tells me it's not pity, it's compassion…it's rage…it's sorrow, it's a river of sorrow, it's his heart breaking open. It's love. He says I have to let him…have this. He has to catch up…to me.

I'm dry-eyed. I'm observing a proper emotional response…through him. I've never known the way to view it, so I have not gone up in my personal hot air balloon and looked down…on it. Until now, until the safety of him.

"My Bella," he says, his hands against me like giant protective spiders, his arms and legs a web, holding me, wrapping me.

If there is sleep it's in patches. I am sleeping with my eyes open…I'm at rest. It's not a green valley, not that. But I just am. I am still.

He sleeps lightly, he wakes, he holds me, he has a question, but it's just, "My Bella?"

I don't want to leave him. I don't want to be apart from him. It's not sick. I'm done with that. It just is. I want him…sickness, health, rich, poor, until the River Jordan, and even then if I go first, I'll wait. In the light, my arms reaching for him.

It's still dark when I see it, the bright shape, the finger drawing close, and I gasp, ready to protect Edward, ready to shield him as it draws near, and comes close, so bright, and I feel the warm touch over my heart and I close my eyes. It was always hers…the scar she made when she touched me there. God uses people…and dogs…and gardens…and Edward…the living…the dead. Light can't be caged.

I tried to tell Mom at ten years old about the touch, the scar. "No," she said. "Don't ever say that again. Ever. They'll think you're crazy. They'll lock you up in here and you'll never come home," she said this to me that day, hanging over my hospital bed.

So I put it away in one of the rooms…in my head. I put it there for safe-keeping…the touch that melted my skin. Mom said it was a bullet, the same one that killed Charlie, stopped his heart. But I knew it was her. I always knew. She died for me.

When I open my eyes it's dark and quiet, and Edward is whispering my name in his sleep, and maybe it was a dream, the light…and her touch.

I know my skin will stay marred in the same way…my beauty, my mark. I know that I am healing. And my life will speak of this…the light soaking the dark…and people…my own children…will hope.


	34. Chapter 34

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 34

There is this new place Edward and I have found, this new world we've somehow had the good fortune to land upon. We are stepping from the sanctuary of our boat now and making our ways onto the dry land. He wears a pilgrim hat, me a bonnet. No turning back.

"What are you thinking?" he asks, moving his hand through my hair like he's spun it on a wheel.

"I'm thinking of pilgrims," I say. We are still lying in his bed, and it feels like a dream.

He laughs. "Thanksgiving?"

"You and me disembarking a row-boat. Entering a new country."

"Is that what we're doing?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm." He tries to read it…my brain. His big hand is cupping the back of my head. "I look like Roger Chillingworth and you look like Hestor Prynne," he says.

"Wasn't' Roger…old?" I think of saying, 'thirty-seven,' but I don't.

"I guess. But I could work with the pilgrim idea…it could be like a French maid if I took my trusty knife…."

We are silent then, comfortably silent, as his hands smooth over me. "Your skin is so soft," he says running his hand down my arm and gripping my fingers, "Except for your hands. These hands are very hard working," he says, lifting the subject, slowly kissing each of my fingers.

He sounds playful but when I raise my head and look at him, he has tears in his eyes.

"I shouldn't have told you," I whisper.

"You should have," he says firmly.

"I upset you."

"I'll live," he smiles sadly. "We said 'love,' right?"

"I did," I say.

"I did first," he reminds, one brow lifting.

"You're braver."

He shakes his head and resumes the finger kissing, "I don't think so. Not even close."

The dogs are pushing their noses at us. They've had the run of the place. Edward gets up and I'm knocked into silence watching him. He's beautiful, but he wouldn't say so. His lack of interest doesn't take it away though—he's beautiful. Not only because I love him. He's gifted with beauty.

He pulls on his boxers and leads our cheerful amigos out. He's back quickly, but he's not happy. He gets into bed with me and I can feel it in him, the trouble. "What is it?"

"I don't know. That living room…I don't know how you've come back here. I was an ass to…French fries. You should have told me to shove the whole hot pan of grease…."

I don't want to get out of this bed. It's all so much easier lying here. "Hush. You took my fear away."

He eases some. "Bella…do you see yourself staying here?"

He's made me see myself without him. He's made me look in to the future and I'm alone.

"I mean…could you ever leave here?" His arms twitch around me.

"It never came up."

"Have you made sure…I mean you went to college."

"Now and then. I did most of it on-line."

"And what about your work? Your company…?"

"I visit time to time." I'd seen Jasper at the funeral. He had the good grace not to question me about work.

"Can you leave here? Do you do alright when you're away? Is it some…you've heard of agoraphobia?"

I rear back to look at him. "You think I have it?"

We stare at one another. "I have no idea," he whispers.

"I don't," I say.

We resume our positions, holding one another, my head resting on his chest.

"Bella, I've been a fucking tumbleweed you know."

"I don't, Edward," I whisper, because I don't know much. He's started to tell me, from his being here, backward to Oregon to the Pacific trail. He's told me that much, but not the before. "You were boxed in or something. You said it had no bearing on…right now?"

"Yeah. I'm an ass. Everytime I look at myself next to you…I cringe, baby."

"What I've been through Edward…what I've shared…there's nothing remarkable there so don't over…think it."

"You don't see yourself, Bella."

"You see how low it sets the bar for me? I've heard people say that…you're functioning. It's a miracle. I heard that a lot in the hospital. So what…functioning now becomes this walk on the moon? I'm functioning. So what? Other people have to go to college…contribute. I just have to…get dressed!" I think of all the times Mom told me to put my pants on. It makes me smile.

"You're smiling," he says. "Thinking about right now? Your birthday suit?" he asks skimming a hand over me.

I laugh. I'm not but close enough.

And later….

"Bella…you can't know what you mean to me. I want to say it…."

Mad kissing. Nothing between us. We make love, this love, this painful, desperate joy. There is no slowing down, such an eagerness…to join. But first, just his hands on me, his fingers touching, the pads on each one rough and soft…his touches, his eyes intently watching his hand…on me.

"You're mine," he tells me as his fingers stroke between my thighs, and I am wild and crazy now, insane to feel him touch me, and my hand is over his and I break apart and this rippling euphoric heat lets loose in me and what a trick…of God's…to put this in place, to create us with such a capacity. To share this…in love…to let us fly.

He pushes into me and I am like a water-slide in there, a wicked ride and he says, "You're hot inside, you're so hot," as he gasps and pushes himself in and out, and he's telling me in frantic whispers how beautiful I am and how much he loves me. He's a talker now, a revealer. He'll never let anyone hurt me, he says. He'll never let anyone hurt me again. I'm his.

After he fills me, we lay like that, sweaty and not wanting to break the chain. He keeps tension on my hips, holding me to himself. He is kissing me, softly kissing me, and I can easily bear his weight, just now, he can't crush me.

"I love you," he tells me.

"I love you," I repeat.

"I guess…would you marry me?"

"Yes," I say with a certain amount of surprise because I already know I would.

"You would?" Now he's surprised.

"Yes," I say again.

"I can't believe it."

"Why? You think there's someone else?"

"Oh, you're settling for me?"

"I'm not getting any younger."

We do get separated then as he rolls me around on the bed and I squeal.

Later….

We are in the shower and he is soaping every inch of me praising my body like one might a new religion. I know I'm average, but it's like he's making me beautiful while he goes on, it's like I'm becoming beautiful. I think even I can see it. Even knowing I'm still average.

I wash his back and he has his hands on the wall and his head is bowed and he's groaning. "That feels so good," he says. I reach around and grip his pole, and I guess men are like that all the time when a naked woman is nearby cause he is, always like this until we have just done it, then he goes soft but I haven't seen him that way, I haven't looked.

I have soap and I hold him there and he likes it so much he leans back in to me, shows me how to do it better, gripping my hand like I had his earlier, and I stroke him that way and I feel so in control of him, and it's new and it's powerful and generous all in one because I love him with this crazy feeling. And he comes in the air and a little on the wall and his body shudders and never in my life…have I experienced this.

So later….

We share secrets now, so many already, and how he came on the wall and he called it, 'the little fishies,' as he washed it off and that was pretty funny. I'm still laughing on the inside when I answer the door. I figure it's Mom, but no she's back at work, or probably Leah wanting to make sure I remember I'm driving her and Pearlie to the cemetery later.

But I open the door and it's neither of those, it's a woman and she looks…expensive. Now she is beautiful. And right away I know. Somehow…he belongs to her.


	35. Chapter 35

Okay, second update today and it's been a few days, so read 34 first. I had to let that one, 34, sit for a couple of days.

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 35

This strange woman at Edward's door looks over my shoulder, her face lifting like she sees the thing she's ached to see.

Edward is behind me. He stays where he is, center of the room.

"Robert," she says.

"Edward," he repeats. "Do you really think I'd keep his name?"

"Oh," is all she says and I get out of the way as she flies past. She has thrown herself against him and his arm has gone around her, the other hand hangs limply at his side. He looks at me, but mostly it's her.

He's Robert.

She is crying and he just seems to allow it, not disrespectful, but not moved. Not touched. I realize my hands are gathered over my mouth, like I'm trying to hold in any kind of reaction. Is fainting allowed? I might. I feel the swim and move to the wall because I need a spine. I don't want to sit on the couch because that would bring me further in to the room and I can never be trapped here again. I do not like feeling surprise on this level…here. Not here.

Cataclysmic as it must be to hold her, to see her, to feel her emotion, his eyes are on me now. "Are you alright?" he asks.

I nod and the woman pulls away, her face only, so she can look into his. But her arms she keeps around him. "I've been so worried."

He doesn't answer that, chews on his lip. "Bella," he says to me, "I'll…."

I nod, eager to get outside. I don't want to leave him, but I can't stay. He has not introduced me and I know him well enough to understand this is deliberate.

I go out, hearing her voice. She asks who I am.

I go down his stairs. I hurry. A month ago I didn't know him. I didn't pine for him. He had no power over me. A month ago. Now there's only him. There's no one else…for me. I am locked in. I am locked in.

Across the street Billy's drapes are open, and behind he cares for Dusty.

I think I want him—Billy—his presence a mighty oak…diseased, yes, but still standing. But if I go, he'll say what's the matter and I won't answer. I'll make him eggs and he'll be happy, he'll take them. He'll let me be strange. He won't ask twice.

I see Mom's car. She was going to go back to work today, but she's still here.

She sits in the kitchen, at the table, a cloud of smoke fogging the overhead light, Mom's light, a bowl by her elbow holding the bones of so many others…she's devoured.

"Billy has a dog," she says instead of all the other things she might.

He does.

"He seems to…he likes it." She looks off, pinching her top lip with her thumb and little finger, same hand that holds the cigarette.

I don't know this place. It's hers. I have no home, I have a piece of all the homes, but none that's mine.

"She over there?" Mom asks nodding toward Edward's.

"Who?" I say.

"Kardashian."

I have to laugh.

"She came here first. Calls him Robert," Mom says.

Now I'm not laughing. "Who is she?" I say since she's so full of knowledge this morning.

"Hell if I know. Queen Bee."

"What about A. R.? You spent time with him. Billy was going to run his plates but he never did."

"Billy still up to that?" She blows a raspberry and stubs out her smoke. "He said his company rented out the house. He had work in the area."

"What kind of work?"

"Investigative, he said. Insurance."

I don't believe that. He'd always been watching Edward.

"He's gone anyway," she says, steepling her hands against her chin and staring off.

"Think anymore about moving out?" I never bring these types of things up.

She's surprised. "Maybe."

I already know she's not going anywhere. I leave the kitchen and go to the window that looks across to Edward's. The view isn't great. He never did finish cleaning the fence row. But I can see over there and the house is quiet, like always.

Mom comes up behind me. "Figure he'll go back where he came from?" She's looking over there with me.

"He…asked me to marry him."

I feel her insides contract. It's subtle of course and probably my imagination, but I feel it. I don't even know if he's already changed his mind.

Mom's hand is on my arm. "Did you say yes?"

I look at her briefly and nod.

"Bella," she whispers, and I can't tell what kind of whisper it is, but her hand falls away.

After a minute, she's back in the kitchen, I hear the chair scrape and hear the match, but I don't answer their forlorn call. For too long I've served those very cues, and now…I don't want to.

What is clear, I need to get dressed for Leah and Pearlie. I have a lot to do.

111111111111111111111

Back downstairs and Edward has not appeared to knock on my door, to climb in my window. I am in the kitchen making Billy a sandwich to take over before I go to Pearlie's. Donna had to go home, but she's contracted for a moving company to pack up Pearlie's house. Leah and Pearlie fly out tomorrow, also me, and Edward…Robert?...maybe Billy, are taking them to the airport. But now there's an if…if…if….

But today, Pearlie says good-bye to the grave. She is leaving Merle here until resurrection day, she says, when the body is called out of the earth and they'll meet in the sky.

Mom's head is on the table now. She naps here sometimes, like that, usually too much wine when she does and I don't see wine today. Today it's the news. I've said yes…to him. And I don't know if he meant it…now…this hour later while he's still in the house with the woman who calls him Robert. I don't know, and my hands are shaking as I lay turkey on bread.

I put it together, and Mom raises and sees what I'm doing and I ask if she wants one, and she doesn't answer, but comes to where I am working at the counter and she gently elbows me aside. "I'll do this."

"It's for Billy," I say.

"I'll take it," she says.

"You?"

She looks at me. "I can't take the man a sandwich?"

I have too many answers, too many things I could say, words not even strung together, but they're crowding my throat like men looking for work, raising their fists saying, 'me next,' to the union boss or something. What in the hell does she mean, 'can't she take a man a sandwich?'

She never has.


	36. Chapter 36

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 36

Mom takes the sandwich to Billy's. I watch her walk across the street. It's not that she hasn't…wouldn't go over there. There have been reasons over the years, since Sue died.

But she doesn't go like this, for him. Not even after they took his leg, not even then. I went. He became…mine. It all became mine.

But I'm watching her now. I'm watching the world tip upside down and turn itself inside out so the lava cools and turns into new countries and the old countries compost and overheat and burn into a molten mass deep in the place where a heart should be.

That's how the earth renews…every once in a while. That's how it renews today.

I am going to drive Merle's Cadillac to the cemetery so I'm walking to Pearlie's. I pass Edward's house and a chunk of my heart rips away as I do not see him and he does not call out to me. When I reach the rental next door, an expensive car sits in the driveway and a man bursts out of the door.

"Hey, excuse me…Miss?"

He's another one, tied to the strange woman…to Edward. I stop because it would be weird not to. He wears tan colored pants and a white shirt unbuttoned, a white t-shirt beneath. It's chilly out, but his sleeves are rolled to his elbows and he's big, but not fat, just big and he moves loosely as he hurries down the steps and up to me. He looks like he's slept in the shirt. He has dark close-cropped hair and a handsome face, and he wears jewelry, a necklace of some kind and a ring, a big ring that says he's accomplished something.

"You're Bella Swan?" he says getting close enough.

"How…do you…know?"

"Sorry." He actually blushes and smiles and strong teeth, white as the shirts. "I've seen your pictures." He points to Edward's house then, "Edward."

I am a quick thinker, slow speaker. I know it's A. R.. He took pictures. It's a hell of a thing to learn.

"Oh," he says, "I'm Edward's…brother. Emmett."

I already knew. I just knew.

"Yeah, I brought…our mother. He uh…he won't see me. She's a…in there with him now."

All I can do is bite my lip and stare.

"So ah…he gardens?" he asks this with good nature, but he's smirking. There's a sadness in him, and he rubs the back of his neck.

"You spied on us," I finally say.

"Oh…sorry. It's just…when we realized he was here…we sent someone to make sure…see if he was alright." He's boyish, the way he speaks. Likeable…dimples. If not for Edward, what I've felt, if not for that I might even trust him.

"You thought he wasn't…alright?" I say.

"We didn't know. We hadn't heard from him in almost two years."

I nod. I'm in a vice here—between what I know and what I don't. Between Edward and him…the brother. I don't want to learn anything from Emmett. It's hard to not know, to let him see I don't. Of course, he could never believe I mean anything to Edward if I don't know…the basics. And I don't.

"Well…nice meeting you. I…" I point down the street and take off.

"Bella," he calls after. I stop and turn. "I don't know what he told you…but I love him, you know? He's my brother. I'm…just here to make amends…if I can."

I turn away and continue to walk. I almost run.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 111111111111111

We stand at the grave, the three of us, Pearlie, her red hair exploding around the sides of the pancake hat. Leah silent, shrouded in a navy blue poncho she loves to try and hide her body in. I know this because she calls it her hide-a-body and it's older than many people's old dogs.

My arms hang stupidly because death is so beyond our control we have to hire people to say the right things and get us through the ritual of painting the body to look natural…naturally not dead. And I sure don't have a thing to say.

"Donna wanted him cremated so she could take him to Florida," Pearlie says, sad amusement in her eyes. "He hated…vases."

For a minute we don't say anything, but Leah is the first to laugh. Merle might have hated vases but he really would have hated saddling Pearlie with his remains. The fact Donna didn't know said a lot. Merle never wanted to be anyone's responsibility. He said, "Plant me and be done with it." He said that more than once.

When we're quiet again Leah says, "We put people in the earth, then we buy two boxes…a box in a box to protect them from the earth. It's just to get our money. It's stupid."

There's a wind. Pearlie's hat blows off and Leah goes off to chase it, her poncho trying to act like a kite.

Pearlie and me laugh.

"Merle did that," Pearlie says as Leah's back, handing the hat to her.

Leah looks at me and we laugh some more. Pearlie too.

"Will you watch over him, Bella?" Pearlie says. "Put some flowers here on his birthday?"

Wow. She knows I don't take this lightly. I've got a couple of others here…Charlie Swan and Sue Black. We only tiptoe past Charlie, glad he's six feet under and hoping he can't dig out. But Sue, we bring her flowers now and then…Jacob and me.

"Could you leave here?" Edward asked me. I've never been so uncertain before. I am nailed here. That makes it my cross. That makes me its savior.

"I can do that," I tell Pearlie.

That's when my truck pulls up and Edward is driving. He gets out of the truck and he's got his guitar. My heart…well my heart. The fact he's here…I don't need words. He's here.

I fold my hands and go up on my toes and back down. Leah is looking at me, shaking her head, hiding her face in her hair as she smiles. What she doesn't realize, he's strumming a few chords from the song he continually writes about me—She's a girl, she's a girl.

I look at him, and he's strumming like that as he approaches, his eyes taking my pulse, my temperature, reading my retinas. I see the swollen knuckles on his guitar hand. I see the fat lip, too.

He comes up near me and he switches to Amazing Grace. He already knows from the funeral this was Merle's stand by. Pearlie is smiling at Edward while he plays. Mostly he looks at me and I see it…the turmoil he almost masks with the lovely hymn. When he's finished he says, "Anything else Merle liked Miss Pearlie?"

"Well," Miss Pearlie says, "he liked a little James Brown."

We have to crack up then. Leah especially. Miss Pearlie just made Leah's year.

"Okay," Edward says and he strums around and starts right off screeching like James Brown, "This is a man's world, this is a man's world…."

He's not shy about it. Miss Pearlie is smiling ear to ear. Edward goes right in to the dialogue, "You see, man made the cars to take us over the road." I can't look at him. He's kind of being sexual, flinging his head around and moving his shoulders some…and his hips. We're all blushing. Even Miss Pearlie is flushed and Leah looks about ready to die.

But there is no stopping him, and he puts his whole self into it and Pearlie stands there clutching her purse and listening like James has risen for the guitar instead of the trumpet.

But he's singing to me…"…wouldn't be nothing without a woman or a girl." He's singing to me.

I look off, a stupid groupie. He thinks he'd be lost without me? What does he think I've been going through!

"He's lost in bitterness," Edward pretty well squeals, falling to his knees for the finale.

As he leaps back onto his feet, Miss Pearlie has moved her bag to her arm and she's rapidly clapping her hands. Her teeth are locked in such a grin that her cheeks are bunched into little dumplings. No one should be this happy at a fresh grave, should they?

"Oh that was real nice," Pearlie says.

Leah takes Pearlie's arm because our memorial service is apparently over.

We are behind the two walking to Merle's car. Edward takes hold of my hand. "You alright Bella?"

"I don't know," I say.

"Can you ride with me?" He's turning them on me, the lazers, the sting rays, the death rays. He's desperately worried, knocked off center. Their sudden arrival has rattled him deep down.

"No," I say. Leah won't drive Merle's car. So Edward ends up having to follow us back to the neighborhood. I park the vehicle and see Pearlie inside. She has a box of things she wants me to take. I can see the big green ceramic ballerina top of the box, also the ceramic black panther with his mouth open and his gold teeth. Leah's trying not to laugh again.

"Thanks Pearlie."

I'll see them in the morning when I take them to the airport.

I come downstairs and Edward has the truck running. I walk on by him with my box of treasures and junk. I can see the rental right away, see the fancy car is gone.

My truck is pointed the opposite way. Edward calls me, but I keep walking with the box. I hear him pull off and I know he's turning around. It's win over Bella time.

"Hey pretty girl," he says driving along as I walk. Thankfully I am almost to the driveway. I cross it and he pulls in. "Bella," he's saying, cranking the door.

I keep walking and he catches up, takes my arm. "Hey," he says, eyes searching. "Here, give this to me."

He takes the clinking box. Our dogs have spotted us from in the yard and they're going crazy. Mom's car is still here. I lead the way and we go inside. I take the box upstairs and he tells me he's going to be in back with the dogs.

I can't bear to look through the box yet, so I set it on my bed and go back down. Mom isn't around. Surely she's not still at Billy's. Edward is sitting on the deck stairs. I sit beside him. He puts his arm around me, the sore hand close to my face and kisses my temple with his fat lips. I hurt I love him so much.

"You made them leave," I say.

"Yes. It was ridiculous…they rent a house next door. Only my family, Bella. They have money without borders. I'm so sorry you had to have that come in so suddenly not even knowing who…or what…. All I could think was to get you as far away from it. Baby…I'm so sorry."

I can still see how upset he is. He'd masked it at the cemetery. But I'm not going to make this so easy by saying all the words. I'm upset too. They are his family and he hasn't introduced me. I said I'd marry him. I want to be a part of his life, his whole life. And he's sent them away.

"It doesn't change anything…just like I told you. Bella?"

"It does for me. I didn't get to meet them."

He's taken aback. I can feel the big uht-oh shaking through him. "No, Baby. No. I walked away…a couple of years ago. For reasons. They don't get to meet you."

"Was she your mom?" She barely looked old enough. She was beautiful. Like him.

"My aunt acting like my mother."

He threads his fingers through mine. He won't let the dogs come too close but stamps his foot and they step back. "I…it was my brother…you met…my cousin."

"Emmett?"

"Yeah, the ass. He told me he met you."

"He came out when I was walking to Pearlie's and introduced himself." That's how I had to meet him.

"What did he say to you?"

"He said he was your brother and…he knew me. From pictures. He said…he loves you." I don't know if I'm defending them or my right to know them.

"Oh geez that ass."

"Did you punch him?"

He checks his hand. "He has no boundaries, approaching you like that."

"He…hit back?" I ask motioning to his swollen lip.

"Um…no. I hit it on his shoulder…somehow. He had no right to approach you. It got…heated. You're mine to introduce…or not. He had no right," he repeats. He's intense.

Does he think there was something weird? "The only weird thing was me not knowing…anything. I felt…embarrassed."

This gives him pause. "I knew I'd have to tell you, and I wanted to do it in my own time."

"When?"

"I don't expect you to understand…but you're mine…my girl…my friend…my choice…the woman I want to be with," he kisses my hand, my lips. He feels over my face like a blind man. "They can't touch you. Not you. I'll give my life to protect you. I won't allow anyone to hurt you. Not if I can prevent it."

"Are they so bad?" I finally whisper. There is something so deep in him…an almost frantic concern, as if they'd tried to kidnap me.

"Let me tell you something about them Bella…you'd meet them…like with Emmett…God I don't even want to say his name…but you'd meet them and love them. That's how it is. They can work it…you know? They have perfect skills for drawing people in, and if they can't there's their endless money. But there's always an agenda…always…and it's more about them than you. Every time."

"Was there a woman, Edward? Is that what it is?"

I feel his dread. He's ashamed. "That's part of it. We were going to get married. I find out…my own brother betrayed me with my fiancé. And they all knew. When I found out…they think I broke down…fell apart. I know that's what they think, that's what they say, a breakdown. But Bella…it was a break-through.

"I had to get away from them. He's their son. Not me. Then he has the nerve to approach you? To come here and approach you? They're getting married. That's what this is about…Emmett and Rose. Esme and her baby boy came here so I could lift it off of them…the guilt. What am I supposed to do? Be his best man…drive there for Christmas? See how it is?"

He looks at his hand, flexes his fingers. "It's not that I haven't let it go…I have. I'm not in love with her…they can have each other. But my parents…my real parents are dead, Bella. It just took me a few years to realize it. You think I wanted to bring all that here…between us? I've been too happy. I left all of this…bullshit on that trail."

Inside me, a new movie is being threaded, ready to run. "How…did your parents die?"

"Dad had a plane…he was a pilot. Sometimes if someone in town lost a loved one out of state…Dad would pick up the body. Mom only went with him…one time. He crashed shortly after take-off down in Texas…a malfunction. They were killed. I was only eight when I went to live with Aunt Esme and her husband Carlisle. They had a kid my age. You've met."

"She called you Robert."

"She's the only one who does. Robert is my middle name, for her father. Edward is my first name for my father. At home I'd gone by Edward. At her home I went by Robert…her choice. She prevailed upon me and I took the Masen name when I was eleven. I pretty much adored her and would have done anything she asked. She stepped in after the loss I'd suffered…both of us hurting…. But my real name is Cullen. The older I got, the more I wanted my name, but I kept it to myself."

"Did you and Emmett get along?"

"I didn't make an issue of things. But I knew very young we had different..scruples, different ways of seeing life…different boundaries. He's very likeable. He has this inate charm."

Edward is also charming but I don't say this. "You taught high school?"

"Yes for seven years. But I did go into the family business when…Carlisle got sick-cancer. Esme was beside herself. During that time Esme also introduced me to Rose and…we dated and it was all the same circle. I dodged the marriage bullet so long I finally succumbed to the pressure and proposed hoping for the world's longest engagement.

"The family business entails selling industrial equipment and includes a great deal of travel. I like travel but it wasn't my ideal for a marriage, me being on the other side of the world from my wife. But going into it was a compromise…for Esme. I had to help the family out…or it was presented as such. The whole family wanted me rich and successful. It's like joy came, and Carlisle was doing better. Esme had been so worried and depressed, then…but she was happy again. Looking at it from this vantage point, I can see myself selling out bit by bit. It was my own fault."

"Did you…love Rose?"

"I love you, Bella. I had an affection for her. It's all I seemed capable of. Before Rose even. I hit a wall, like I couldn't find the willpower to love someone. You taught me the difference, I've never been like this, never felt like this. Rose got the old me…dishonest…to myself and to her," he says looking at me, his eyes…he wants me to get this.

I want him to say it again. I already know I won't forget…not a word. It's taken over theatre one. But I want to hear it, see it in his eyes. He loves me.

"I was so preoccupied I didn't see it. When I found out, I walked away. There was nothing…to stay for. I pulled my money out of the bank and took a long, long walk to clear my head. I began the trail a Masen and ended it a Cullen. After a winter of my own lousy company I picked a small town, a small life. I came here. I met you. And it all makes sense.

"They did me a favor. I fell for you the day I looked through that jungle along the fence. This beautiful creature looked back at me. It moved me to shave."

"Me too," I say, and he laughs.

I slowly put my arms around him and he lays his head on mine. "Will I ever meet her…this woman you call mother? Did you give them any hope for the future, Edward?"

"I told them to leave. I'd get in touch when I was ready. If I was ever ready."

"You said that? They are your family, Edward. She took you in. You…you hurt together…and maybe…she saved you. It's like you don't believe they can ever learn…as you have. You don't have any hope for them," I say, realizing I have this whole philosophy that has kept me hanging on to Mom.

"They betrayed me. I don't trust they won't hurt me again, or worse…hurt you. And that I'm not willing to risk." I know this is his deepest fear.

But I realize I'm different. I keep a crack in the door, right or wrong, it's what I do. Even with Charlie, if he wouldn't have died that day…I'd probably be going to the prison on Father's Day or something weird like that. I'd crack the door and hope a sliver of light…might touch him.

Freida…Merle…they cracked the door. Maybe they are why I'm this way.

Edward is justice. Like Billy.

But I…hope. The world needs both. I do.

Edward moves to stand on one of the stairs below me. He's bent over me, his hands on my shoulders.

"You're my life," he says with all this verve like he's about to make a great speech. Of course with his ass to the yard that way it's only a matter of time before Lucky or Ned say hello. Edward stands and swats at the offender. "Mother-fuck," he yells.

Now we're laughing. I stand with him and we are wrapped up in one another. "You should have introduced me to her at least."

"Baby I'm sorry," he says kissing me with that plump sore lip. "I'm not…but I am."

I get it. I do. "After all, I've never hid Mom. She fell in love with you too, you know." I try to smile, but the idea of Mom loving Edward…or anyone really, and yes I can finally admit it, we have to smile at least.

Then I hear a tiny noise near the backdoor and I realize she's been listening possibly to our whole conversation. Edward has heard it too, and we stare at one another.

"We'll be different," he says. "Look at it this way, it won't be hard to do better. We'll make a great life."

I know that we will. We already are.


	37. Chapter 37

Thank you readers.

Me and Mom Fall in Love With Edward 37

Theory has it that the moon was once a part of the earth and there was some kind of a collision and it splintered off and took its rightful place in the universe reflecting the light in its own unique way back to the mothership. I tell this to Edward that same night his family showed up, as we stand in the yard looking up at the big, full dinner plate made out of some kind of green cheese.

It reminds me of him, leaving his family, standing apart and alone…taking the sun…and making it special…beautiful.

He tells me he walked away from a life he no longer believed in. He left it, left them behind. And he walked to me, he said. Okay, he rode too, on a bus. But he found me.

Here's how it goes. The next morning we are driving Merle's Cadillac to take Pearlie and Leah to the airport. Edward likes the Cadillac and Pearlie asks him if he wants to buy it and he says yes. And he offers to write her a check. He always carries one in his wallet, and she wants two thousand dollars and he scoffs at that and pays her six.

She's going to fight him on it, but Leah says, "Take it, geez."

So with his check in her pocketbook Pearlie tells me to be good and she pats my cheek. I watch Leah lead Pearlie's red hair through the gate beyond our reach.

Then I cry. I'm about to get my period, but still, I cry then, about…everything…Merle, Pearlie, and change. Edward's parents dying. Edward being hurt, leaving his life, his family. Freida. My dear God, Freida. Charlie…miserable life, awful death. Billy. Sue. Jacob. Leah. Little Leah.

Mom...her shoulder and the pink strap and all her bad dates from Match.

For all the dogs in the shelter who will never find homes.

And Leah's uncles, that one who was homeless especially and the other guy going to find him and both of them too weird and according to Leah, too disgusting to attract wives.

And finally, I cry a little for me…just a little.

I am just like Ned, the worst…because I'm loved. Love makes me a big cry-baby.

I am so hungry…for Edward. He drives far enough out from the city, no one around, just us and the Cadillac, and a full front seat, a barge in the big river of life, and I stop crying and take off everything, with his help, and he has his pants around his ankles and his shirt is somewhere in back, where I threw it, and my chest makes a sucking sound against his we are sweaty and worked up and this big car is rocking and the steam on the widows frosts the glass and walls us in, and he knows how to move me, and he slides me one way or another, and he says, "Oh, like that…Baby like that." And I don't say a word I just do what I'm told, what he wants, it's all that matters because he takes care of me, like his guitar, hitting it right, right and good…and we make beautiful music together.

"If you don't marry me I'll die," he says filling me, pump and pump.

"I will," I tell him. "I already have."

"Yeah? Tomorrow? You'll do it tomorrow. I won't ever let you go."

"I won't go."

"Yeah? Yeah. You're mine."

"Yours. Forever."

No one loves like us, no one could…like us. No one grinds like us, no one gets entwined like us, goes blind like us, designed like us, for us. He's opened me…read me, read me. I don't deny him a thing. I let him look, I let him touch. I'm made for this…for him. And I let him know he's mine and I want to know what he wants, how he wants it…my hands…my lips…my hips and all the dips, all his…just take. And give. I'll take. We'll make this sweet love until we melt and seep away.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111

I want to tell you that I marry Edward and it all goes away, the trouble with Mom, the trouble with Edward's family. But of course it doesn't go away. There is always lemon in the sweet tea, right? In this life, a mix-up of things…it's that way.

It does move a little.

Mom…the vagina I came from, moved into the rental house two weeks before I married Edward right around Thanksgiving. Remember my vision where we were both dressed like pilgrims? Prophetic. Not only did we dress like Chillingworth and Prynne for Halloween, but our anniversary would forevermore be marked by turkey and cranberry sauce.

So Mom goes on more dates and spends time occasionally playing cards with Billy until she goes on a trip with some teacher friends over Christmas break, Costa Rica, and comes back enlightened.

For one thing she's all about mumus. She wants to simplify and takes all of her knick-knacks and most of her non-mumu clothing she's left behind in my house, to Good Will. She says she's a grazer now, just passing through, traveling lightly. She won't be staying in any one place for long, the world is her home and doors will open or something. And that philosophy takes her from the rental, across the street where she house sits for Leah for the rest of the school year. Who knows where she'll go next?

And Billy gets a new leg, and Billy trains Dusty so well he walks him without a leash, walks him every night before bed, down to Leah's, and home, God help us…home in the morning.

Jacob goes to basic training in Missouri. Afghanistan is a real possibility.

And winter passes and Edward wants to tear Freida's house down to…welcome spring. But I don't know, I really don't. It is emotional for me and I become a giant hoarder, hoarding a whole house all of a sudden. This place, it's an altar for me. I've done business here…with the devil, sure, but maybe with God. Freida for sure. And Edward…plenty of business with him. So there's light here. But enough light to cover the sins…of my father?

Edward tells me to make a Sophie's choice, my house or Freida's. Put like that...I pick my house. So he gets the permits, hires the crew to salvage and demolish, eventually making it a smooth dirt patch.

"It's a grave," I say.

"No," he argues, "it's a fresh start. Isn't that what a grave is?"

"If heaven is real," I say, sticking to the basics.

"It is," he says, his arms coming around me.

And I know it is. God couldn't have made Edward…or Freida or Merle just to end them in a box. I know there's the stipulation about Jesus, but they have each been a savior to me.

Edward is willing to remodel my house…his and mine now. But I don't see the need. So we clean and repaint, but we don't use beige. He likes Billy's yellow kitchen so well he does ours that way and I paint fruit and vegetables…on the walls.

The dogs like the big yard because Edward takes down the fence that divided the properties and cleans the fence row and plants grass. And the garden, it's bigger this year, all across the back half of the lots…we've joined. And at the market that June, I sell and he sings and we make a lot of money and the expansion at the shelter begins.

That fall Edward registers to teach a couple of on-line classes and one for real at the community college. He's wetting his feet, he says. And I visit my office, and Jasper. He and Alice are engaged. And he's happy about it, like he can't believe his luck.

And we host game night and ask the new family who bought Pearlie's to come over. We ask Mom but she's going to a play…with Billy. I can't believe it, I make her say it twice. So I go home and try not to feel…confused.

So the new neighbors come and we play Catch Phrase and I make Alfredo and Edward plays his guitar a little and the guy has a banjo and they sound okay together.

And before Halloween we take Leah's dogs to her in Florida because she's going to spend another winter with Pearlie, too. I don't recognize Pearlie at first, well either of them because they've gone blonde. And Leah, she's easy in the sun, she's a natural…here.

It's close to Thanksgiving when Edward and I meet Esme and Carlisle outside of Chicago for dinner. He's right, they are charming, and right or wrong I can tell, they love him.

Esme asks to be able to see the baby—we're having one-when he comes in July, and Edward says he'll let her know, and in the meantime I promise her I'll post lots of pictures.

And they tell us Emmett suffered Edward's fate, only this time it wasn't a brother Rose cheated with, but Emmett's co-worker.

Edward plays the world's littlest violin right there at the table for Esme and Carlisle. They stare at his hands seeming to believe he is actually producing music. I can't believe how serious he is, how serious they all are. I want to tell him to put his 'instrument' away, but he's so self-satisfied and righteous I can't bring myself to ruin his moment.

We are married a year. Winter is losing its punch and I am getting bigger. So on Sundays we drive to the country and visit a piece of property there. Edward thinks about buying it, living on a small farm, and all the things we could grow. Not right away…but we could buy it now. And then later…possibly a mule. I say that, but he doesn't think it's so funny. He says he'd like a Kubota though whatever that is.

He gets out and walks around, and I watch from the car and he turns and looks at me and I wave.

And he waves but we get stuck there looking at one another, and I try to figure how we'll have car sex again with my stomach ready to pop. We'll figure something out.

End.


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